Something is seriously wrong with my brain. It’s not just bipolar. I don’t think there’s a name for what’s wrong with me. Listen.
I hate cops. I have thought about this, and they’re all bad. They need to be done away with completely. Crime can’t be worse than cops. Cops are unethical. No more rape kits or re-raping victims.
And I’m moving to Costa Rica where they have health insurance. I’ll have to convince Ben to leave his family and dogs and come with me. It will be hard maybe I’ll have to go alone. I don’t know the language. But it’s fiscally shrewd. I am going to Costa Rica in July. Or maybe Canada. Canada would be closer. I’m losing my health insurance eventually eventually and that can never happen. The government is taking everything from me and I am not safe here. Have to go. Two suitcases, I’ll take two suitcases.
The noises on the doors and windows don’t stop when Ben’s out. The trucks are always driving by and thinking of stopping here. I am terrified.
The advantages of carbon monoxide vs. a gun, all the things that I need to do before I go: print out the passwords for Ben, write instructions on church music for the next person, pay the bills, final touches on the will, DNR, get everything notarized. Buy the damn gun. Too much; I can’t do it all. What it would feel like in a wooden box a hundred years ago. Dead children, babies who die, how blessed to save them from the suffering. So jealous of every person who dies. How could anyone expect this to go on indefinitely, this hell. And back to the methods … the things to do … the wooden box … children … the methods … the things to do … the wooden box … children … jealous.
The thoughts come so fast, they can hardly be thought. Cops Costa Rica windows Albert-my-lost-dog rape kits junior high teachers the ledge where I tried to jump Canada father mother church the sheets on the bed the arm that hurts the DNR the finances the electrical storm where the wild things are the present perfect.
The thoughts make sense, is the scary thing. It’s that small glass bulb with lightning bursting inside it, bursting. That’s my brain. Some part tries to find reality, some other part is wandering off tether.