August 5th, 2025 - I don’t want to go.

I’m splicing memories together to make new ones. Remixing all of my greatest moments and I’m injecting them into my veins. The high it gives is like no other. I see my sisters wedding. My best friends birthday party, I see myself walking out of a theatre believing a man can fly. A dinner in December long overdue, the first time hearing a woman tell me she loves me, a secret tryst. A sense of pride from making a batsuit all on my own, some quieter moments alone.

The concoction doesn’t force my tears they come naturally. I have lived. The moments are few and far between. Fewer and further by the year but I have lived. The evidence of it circles through my blood, it pumps through my heart, I am alive.

I need more. I’m an addict for it, for this feeling of joy, of pride, of love. I need it everyday, constant reminders. I need to know, I need to feel. I’m starved, salivating, and shriveled from my drought. I take all my greatest moments to create new ones for the lack of love recently, the lack of memories. I see my best friend in everything I do, I see my closest friends wherever I go. My sister has never left my mind as of late. People I miss. Life has changed so much so I keep injecting the memory of them into my veins. It isn’t enough. I place the needle through my eye, it pierces my brain. I inject and it is not enough. I try again and it is not enough. I need them in my life. I turn 26 tomorrow, and it is not enough. My memory will never be a better substitute than them. I turn 26 tomorrow and I need them in my life.

(This is not a part of the “poem” but I take 4 of my memories in particular. I’m trying to create my 26th birthday. My idealized version of it, I see the night before Klarence left for Japan, I see a dinner among friends in December at The Social Eatery, I see my 25th birthday and I see my best friends 21st. Together, everyone I love is together, they are happy to see me. They give me letters detailing all the things they like about me. How I’ve only ever changed their lives for the better. Whatever- god could you imagine? The joy it would bring? There’s an episode of GameChanger that does that. It brings a contestant that was supposed to get married and presents her all her friends and family, what she means to them. I put the Pacific to shame that episode. I need that, to remember I am loved)

—-

Uhhh- I saw Drez today!!! :)))

Work was easy, a little hectic just by the nature of what we made a la having to keep pumping out general tso.

I jumped straight from Drizzys interview into my dentist appointment. I zoomed home so my moms and I could get stuck in traffic. We pulled up to the dentist late but they’re always very nice about it.

I love the dentist, er- I love the personal attention. That’s why I like ASMR role plays, which I’ve been getting back into recently. Oh my days, the dentist is so expensive 😭 why is it- they’re doctors why isn’t it covered by the govvy?

I need like- to replace my fillings, and I got X-rays done and I need invisiline and an electric toothbrush and a mouth guard. Ish spensive. 😮‍💨

I didn’t wanna watch a movie tomorrow. My mom asked now what and we both suggested mama and IKEA. We picked her up and Lola Gail tagged along. The Segovias ended up here too. We’re all chillin.

IKEA took forever, I didn’t mind being there but we walked around to not buy anything. I wanted to watch F4 and pick up some birthday stuff but. It’s chill.

—

The people I love are texting me, they ask me what I’m doing tomorrow. I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll exist tomorrow. I’m not killing myself I just think I might disassociate. Klarence and Nene texted, I haven’t responded to their letters. Rajvir hasn’t said anything since I refused to ask a girl out for him. Only Roy (Kwan) asked what I wanted for my birthday. Like physically, not what I want to do, but what I want. Why is that? Do people just not want to give me what I want? They would rather think they know me well enough to buy for me on their own? I can understand seeing something and thinking of me and getting it, but I can never comprehend feeling the need to get me something out of obligation and picking something up. You could just ask me. I have a list of things. It’s mostly books but there are odds and ends too. More than anything I want your attention, your adoration. I want a hand written letter detailing all the ways I am loved, how you specifically think of me. Am I kind? Funny? Do I matter to you at all? I’m crying. That line took the stability from my core. My stomach is uneasy and my muscles feel weak. That one hurt. Do I matter to you at all? God I hope so. Meaning nothing is such a great fear of mine.

—

Nothing. I don’t understand where it went wrong. I wasn’t this distraught in the morning, not the afternoon, so why now? Why am I- is it the 11th hour that’s setting me off? I can feel myself unraveling, my forearms plead to be open, my skull craves the warmth of metal, all of me wants to plunge into an endless abyss. I’m not- I am not right now.

These are the last 2 hours of being 25. I wasted it. I always do, every year I waste. God just end it all. I don’t want to change. 26 feels- I don’t know who he is and I just started liking 25. Just started to accept him. I feel like Tennant at the end of his tenure as The Doctor. I don’t want to go.

—-

I’ve never had the opportunity to do this before. I- Dyl Matthew Segovia right now, I am 25. This is the last time I will ever be 25 in the entirety of my life. This is it, everything as I know it ends after this. I’ll be someone else when I wake up. His face will be mine, his memories but he won’t be me. I say that, though I think I’m the same as 24, maybe a little brighter. I hope 26 is treated well. 24 took most of the damage, I think I tried to pick up the pieces, 26 should be fully functioning, not completely healed but- functional.

Can I be truthful? I hate 25. I hated 24 too. I can’t hate 26, I cannot. Please. Please be kind, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to not exist. I want my fucking life back. I’m just too weak to take it. Please. I’m crying. I’ll spend the last of my minutes weeping in silence. I think- I think that if I had a terminal illness it’d be the same. I wouldn’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want to, I’d do everything the same, never live life watch it pass me by and then just die. Silently weeping in the final seconds wishing it was all different. Knowing I had the power to change it all along but never the strength.

Do you wanna know where I wish I was in my life by now? I wish I was moved out in a one bedroom apartment. I would work on my second album after work. I would have a partner we would have a pet, maybe two. I would be happy. We would have separate routines, different days but we would come together in the end. Always making time for the other, always making time for friends. We would go out and do things on Saturdays, our friends would think the world of us.

I would have hobbies, I’d paint, I’d sculpt, I’d compose, I’d dance, I’d sing. I would make every possible type of art known to man and otherwise. I could afford the trips to my dentist. I wouldn’t live here. Not in Mississauga, not in Toronto. Somewhere- somewhere beautiful. Where the days are bright and blue, the nights are always filled with stars. I would never worry if I was living, every second would be my reminder. I wouldn’t have hopes and dreams id be living them. Is that sad? Is it sad to not want because one has? I don’t think so, I think it only sounds sad to say you don’t have hopes or dreams. It’s wrong, I would have hopes, I would have dreams. But in this fantasy they would differ. How couldn’t they? This fantasy is the hope I dream for now, if I were to be there living it I’d dream that the world was kinder, that when I asked my partner they’d say yes to my proposal. I’d dream.

What the fuck, sorry. 25 here, I just spaced out. Uh, I think- these are my final words, it’s kinda hard to stop typing. I know that when I stop and I close my eyes, I won’t wake up, someone else will. I don’t want to stop. Uhm-

So… life has not been kind, I think it rarely is. Not just to me, I think it is a cruel thing in general. 24 was especially cruel, I spent half of it in shambles, I cried more than I smiled. 25 was more of the same, I think I got a little better but I’m still only half person. I don’t think I’ll be whole tomorrow, but I hope to be better. Always better. I hope the days are long and full of joy. I hope my the time between seeing friends is near non existent. I hope love finds me, I hope it makes a home in my heart and stays forever. I don’t want to be alone this time around. This is 25. To 26 and all those later, I hope the world is kind. I hope you’re kinder.

To those who come after,

      Dyl Segovia, 25

AGHHHH I WROTE ALL OF THAT BUT BITCH I AM NOT NON CHALANT I DONT WANT TO GO I DONT WANT TO GO I DONT WA- Mr. Stark? I don’t feel so good.

—- addendum ——

I want to kill myself

—- addendum ——

loud incorrect buzzer sound

Erm- what the frick? Ignore whatever that was. Mayhaps sometimes the thoughts shouldn’t make it to the page.