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i forget constantly that death isn't funny.

and it's strange, i've welcome death in my life like an old friend. he is not evil, for he quietly resides in the back of my mind while he sits and waits for me.

he waits for my final day, my will to end my life so he can finally hold me in his arms and tell me that i did okay. that i did the best that i could in life so i don't feel as bad about how my life turned out. this is how i see death.

whenever i make a morbid joke about my own death or suicide to others, it upsets them. meanwhile i am null and void to the idea.

i have to remember that they don't think like me, that they don't understand the dark humor i take with my own eventual suicide and death. i have to remember that they feel different about death. meanwhile i greet him with my arms wide open, waiting for his cold embrace that'll finally set me free from the mistake that is my existence.

i have to remember to be silent. to shut down, to not let them linger in the shadows of my soul, or otherwise they might try to help. i don't want their help.

i want to die.