Maybe my suicide attempt was the best thing that I’ve ever done for myself. Yes, my injuries were so severe that I barely survived. But I was finally able to find my true self, where I had sort of lost myself before.

Yes, my injuries reduced my IQ by 20 or 30 points; but maybe that was a good thing. So perhaps it was both the best and the worst thing i did for myself.

Maybe i thought about stuff too much. I had a lot to learn about letting go; i still do.

From my point of view, i regard this reality as perhaps being the afterlife. Maybe I did die and this is the afterlife. Why not? Any evidence to the contrary?

So i try to live like this is it. (And i hope to all the gods i know that this IS it — if there’s a whole other life to endure, boy i am gonna be pissed.)

So i just write what i write, and i don’t worry about it. It’s not worth worrying about anything anyway. Everything is temporary.