So, here's the plan.
Thursday, 9 September 2004 09:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59And I Can Take Or Leave It If I Please.*
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My mother is seventy-five years old, and not in good health. We talk a lot about her dying, and how everything will go to me. And lying in the dentist's chair today, wondering why I was lying in a dentist's chair, I came up with this plan. (Wait. That sounded a little like Laurence Olivier had abducted me and was asking "Iss it safe?" And this is not the case. I was wondering what I was doing there because I don't know why I'm wasting all this money on teeth that will last longer than I plan to.)
When my mother dies, I'm going to get on a plane and go to NY and spend my limit on every credit card I can get my hands on, and spend every liquid dime I have, and when that's done and I'm 100% broke—owing nothing, owning nothing, you should pardon the expression (and I know it's not quite accurate, I'd be owing the credit card companies a fortune, but this would be a last "screw you" to them)—I'm going to kill myself. I don't know how yet; something to do with blood, I think. Maybe razor blades, maybe I can borrow a gun. Hey, maybe I can even buy one. I've only ever held a gun once in my life, maybe I'd like it, owning one.
I'm hurting, and I can't see any end to it coming. All the now-you-can-do-this-with-your-life bullshit is just that. I want to go where I feel right, and I don't think there really is any place like that, but NY has been a narcotic for me. I want to go O.D. on it and not have to worry about how my life doesn't fit anymore.
The truth is, there has only been one person in my life who has ever had unlimited time for me, who has ever—
And I don't see it ever happening again. When I was eighteen, I was more adventurous, and prettier, and quite often happier, I think. More entertaining, anyway.
*Suicide Is Painless, Johnny Mandel & Mike Altman
-:- -:- -:- -:-
My mother is seventy-five years old, and not in good health. We talk a lot about her dying, and how everything will go to me. And lying in the dentist's chair today, wondering why I was lying in a dentist's chair, I came up with this plan. (Wait. That sounded a little like Laurence Olivier had abducted me and was asking "Iss it safe?" And this is not the case. I was wondering what I was doing there because I don't know why I'm wasting all this money on teeth that will last longer than I plan to.)
When my mother dies, I'm going to get on a plane and go to NY and spend my limit on every credit card I can get my hands on, and spend every liquid dime I have, and when that's done and I'm 100% broke—owing nothing, owning nothing, you should pardon the expression (and I know it's not quite accurate, I'd be owing the credit card companies a fortune, but this would be a last "screw you" to them)—I'm going to kill myself. I don't know how yet; something to do with blood, I think. Maybe razor blades, maybe I can borrow a gun. Hey, maybe I can even buy one. I've only ever held a gun once in my life, maybe I'd like it, owning one.
I'm hurting, and I can't see any end to it coming. All the now-you-can-do-this-with-your-life bullshit is just that. I want to go where I feel right, and I don't think there really is any place like that, but NY has been a narcotic for me. I want to go O.D. on it and not have to worry about how my life doesn't fit anymore.
The truth is, there has only been one person in my life who has ever had unlimited time for me, who has ever—
And I don't see it ever happening again. When I was eighteen, I was more adventurous, and prettier, and quite often happier, I think. More entertaining, anyway.
*Suicide Is Painless, Johnny Mandel & Mike Altman