diary note

i want to get out, disappear, don't know how to decently and at least gradually leave some
stuff which has built up as obligation coming from another place in me.
i feel so much revulsion and i wish to be free from an influence which makes me ill.
don't know at all how it could happen for so long.
i went through hell hoping for something good.
instinct told me no. always. instinct is experience refined.
i didn't want to know.
no.now i  just meet emptiness. again and again. i say no.
as i am not empty i won't use the above kind of thing. although it would be my preference for suicide.
there is a life after death, green sprouts and shoots after fires, coming through the ashes and though i am exhausted, sad and burnt out, i am alive, isn't it.
i got old now, i lost years...
i will for myself look for joy , for other occupations, for long walks and steep paths above the sea,
for beauty.
i cannot listen anymore to the one i called you.
i go. and i don't want a girlfriend at all.
the images of human relationships and with them the division in parts with real knives
cause me disgust and make me feel sick to my bones.
i send the monsters away, but they can sleep next to me.
i leave longing, desire, hope and faith. i found nothing to reach there, with them i have been a boat out at sea, walked on water and got wet.
saying no is rising out of the role of victim, breaking prison walls.
i want to be my own breath and voice and will never separate from me anymore,
never get lost in translation and cynical intellectual games for all future from now.
no rash idiot judgements. no comparisons. no esoteric love. no gratefulness. no detached kindness. no nice words. i hate them. no emojis. i dislike them deeply. no conversations, the word says all.
please no 'models', no requests to change my perspective. it will change each day, each moment-for me.
and if i like to share something of that i will- or not.
no more truths, they are unbearably ugly.
love, it seems, is impossible - i didn't know until coming through the last years.
a survivor, not more. and this is a polite wording.
in between i cook, eat, enjoy life and complete laziness. even laugh. now rarely.
when i cannot do that anymore-see top of the page.