I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

On a serious tip. Should Wednesday come and I find myself prepared to die, one of two things will happen. I will either die and hopefully pass on to either a) some kind of higher plane or b) another life where hopefully I earned good karma in this life. The other possibility is me failing to die. In which case I will find myself in some kind of institution, where maybe I will find my place. Of course, I will be released sometime to return to the world to again be alienated. I’ll be the one who went crazy.

I am not crazy, I’m just tired. Life, in general, is a system. A system I am not a part of, and do not wish to be a part of. This life tells me this. Go to school and work hard to get good grades so you can grow up and get a job. Work hard at this job to have hard working kids, so when you’re old, you can rest and have fun in your autumn years. I don’t want that. I want the fun now, in my autumn years where is the excitement going to be? I’m young - where’s the art and poetry of life? Where does the self-fulfilment come in. You all know it’s all a pressure pot built around money. I am not willing to conform, so life beats me, whips me to complacency, I tire.

Death is rest and relaxation. I am not scared of death, I am not scared of my peace. I am not scared to sleep.

I’m wondering why I picked Wednesday as the potential day to die, but it looks like I had it all planned out. There’s only one flaw in my thinking. Just because life is a system, there’s no reason you have to be a part of it. The self-fulfilment comes in when you realize that you can do whatever the hell you want. Others might judge you negatively for it, but it doesn’t matter. You’re doing what’s right for you, not for them.

Hmmm, I wonder what kept me from killing myself.