I Don't Want to Celebrate

My Uncles funeral is in a week. My Auntie told my mom that it is goring to be a celebration and not so much a funeral. After there will be a luau (that's what is taking so long... the funeral will be held two weeks after his death because Hawaiians cannot decide on one pig or two ;) Add a howley (a white individual) or two in the mix and chaos reigns, heh). Wonderful pig aside (Kalua pig... mmmmm, amazing)... I don't want to celebrate. My Uncle is dead and he shouldn't be. We all knew it was a possibility. Some of us more than others (that feeling you get sometimes, you know... I was pretty certain he was going to die... trying to hope that I would be wrong). So you can keep the damn pig and just give me my Uncle back.

I can't even cut today. I've got a great one just waiting to be messed with and I can't. Which sucks because I feel like I want to do something... to hurt... something bad to myself. I know how it sounds, I really do. But that's just how it is right now. Cut, over dose (no more Tylenol though, thanks), burn (no, I very rarely burn and now is just not feeling like that sort of time), beat my head against the wall until I'm senseless (that one sounds best actually because it combines pain and unawareness). But I can't. None of it would be enough (sans the senseless bit). I can't cut enough, not with only two hands and one razor blade. Over dosing won't do it, I very rarely feel any effect from it (at least that's how it was when I did it most). I couldn't burn enough... yes, the head banging seems to be preferable but I cannot guarantee that I could do it enough, hard enough, that I would black out. And that's really what I want. The unawareness.

I don't want to celebrate. I don't even want to exist right now; not in consciousness anyway. How lame is it that I have to? Because I don't. I could figure out some way to find my peace among the blackness of unconsciousness. Except I cannot.

I cannot even do that.