A few months back I wrote a blog entry joking about my small penis. I didn’t think much of it but for some reason it gets a lot of attention (the blog entry, I can only wish dick got attention). Last time I dabbled in stand up, I brought a female friend and she brought another friend along. I wasn’t doing too hot and then the psychic who brought me up told me to talk about my small penis. Once I said those two magic words, I could see the two girls get instantly interested. I think talking about small penises has a lot of power and with great power comes great responsibilities. If I talk about it, I better have something interesting or funny to say because I don’t want to feel like I’m just trolling for attention.
Just like any other blog entries, the small penis one eventually fell into obscurity, which is fine. A few days ago, my girlfriend broke up with me and that very same day, a random girl commented on it telling me she liked small penises and that I shouldn’t be sad over nothing. She said she might have a small penis fetish. I looked at her twitter and she has an overly sexualized account. I don’t know if that comment was genuine or if she was trying to get more view on her twitter or if she was just trolling. Either way though, it still felt good to get some positive feedback.
A lot of times when someone commits suicide, people wonder what was going through their head, why they did it, and how come they didn’t tell people about their pains and sorrow. A lot of times, the people who talk a lot about suicide only talk about it for the attention. I talk about suicidal thoughts pretty openly; I haven’t done it yet; I’d hate to think I’m in that obnoxious latter group.
Talking about suicide is pretty pointless. I have plenty of friends and family who genuinely don’t want me to die, but they don’t really care about me. For one reason or another, I simply don’t have anyone who really cares about me. I have several great friends who I get along really well with, but it’s not their obligation to feed me and keep me alive. Talking about suicide with them just becomes a bummer because there isn’t much they can say or do. They voice their opinion about not wanting me to die, but there isn’t much else they can do. From the way I talk about suicide fairly lightly, it would be an overreaction for them to do anything more.
When I’m in this suicidal state, it actually feels bad for me to help others. The nicer I am to others, the more pain I’ll be creating when I die inexplicably. On the surface, I don’t appear to be hopeless. I can muster a lot of energy to perform well in tasks but there’s just no motivation for me to do it on my own, for myself. This past month, I helped 4 different people move; I helped my friend’s mom with a spreadsheet last night and went to the gym and got in a good workout with my friend; I’ve also been biking, running, and playing basketball with some other friends too. Today, I was playing an online game and my new online friend randomly asked if I knew how to program and I spent the next few hours helping him with his school project. It’s not like I’m slob who can’t muster the energy to do anything and it’s not like I’m hopelessly stupid, but I simply don’t have the motivation to do it for my own personal survival.
Even this blog entry feels pointless. I’m either going to get people telling me not to commit suicide which is nice and all but it doesn’t really change anything. Or worse yet, I might get no responses and I’ll feel even more like no one cares. But I haven’t written anything in a while so I guess this is something… I don’t know…