Eric Jerome Dickey, The Novel Pleasure (via wordsnquotes)
I was an Air Traffic Controller at Atlantic Municipal Airport, Iowa for 27 years. My first year at the job, I unwillingly went from a firm atheist to a believer
By inaaace
My uncle and aunt came to visit me here in Atlanta. We got to talking about all sorts of general things, you know how family is, but we somehow ended up on the topic of strange/supernatural. This is when my uncle started telling me his story, a story that he says will haunt him all the way to his grave. I stopped him two minutes into it and got my laptop because I wanted to write it down.
These are his memories, almost word for word. Forgive the non-traditional writing.
This is me saying goodbye. I'm not going to use this account anymore. I need a change. Maybe I'll come back. But I won't be posting on this account for the unforeseeable future.
I don’t need saving, I don’t need help. What I am is who I am. I have already accepted it. I don’t need constant reminders that I look depressed. I don’t need a remedy or a hobby. What’s done is done. I am incredibly depressed. I have crippling anxiety. I am on pills that don’t help. I literally destroy everything I touch. I am a walking nightmare. I am a monster. And I live with it every day. It’s like a twisted, fucked up, corny as hell anvil that’s hanging above my head waiting to crush me. I always feel it. Every second. Don’t waste time on me. I’m an accident waiting to happen. I am not going to drag anyone else down with me. No one deserves to be me or be anywhere near me. Don’t get involved with me. Just live your life in blissful ignorance. Because I wish that I could. Just let me go on with my pathetic and miserable life in my own agonizing, hellish, peace.
Please stop kicking me while I'm bleeding out. I'm already content enough to just lay down and die.
The grave I have dug for myself
I can't stop thinking about the other places that I could be in right now if I had only been living with my eyes open instead of holding them shut. Now I'm stuck in a pit that I willingly threw myself into. And it is dark down here without the light I had before. All I do now is wait until the pit is filled in over me and it becomes my grave. With one final touch, an unmarked stone so that anyone who passes by knows that no one important occupies this hell.
Till we meet again
2am writing from last night
November 1st, 1:38 am Death is the only thing I understand right now. It's so finite, and finishing, and I just wish something would come along and give me my Death. This life needs to end. I can only hope and help it along with a handful of cigarettes and no seatbelt.
