On October 9, 2026, I found myself home alone from morning until night. I read Atom Araullo's article about his documentary about two mentally ill brothers who were locked in cages as a last resort of their mother because it got too expensive to get them the professional help they so very needed. Makalungkut ya. Found myself worried about myself after that, then found myself in tears. I don't want my mother suffering because of me. I've been a burden long enough. While washing dishes (or preparing my dinner for one), I was crying. My eyes kept being pulled by the knife-holder. I could almost see it slicing my skin, blood slowly gushing out.
I read somewhere that wrist-cutting is a gentle (albeit morbid) way to off oneself. One would be able to feel the body being drained, organs getting weaker and weaker, breath becoming slower and shallower until it all just ends with a final exhale. But my post-death expenses are out of my budget at the moment, so that will have to wait. Oh, well.
Earlier today, J called about a possible job their family has for me in the next couple of years. There's something to look forward to. I hope I make it til then. :)
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