Posting here again.
I didn't really have any sort of identity as a child. I wasn't really taught to have one. Then again, my parents were probably the same. Driven by the pursuits of their mothers and fathers before them, and always stuck in a past sense of reflection. Only until recently was my own existence an aphorism. Short-lived, and only sparked by the sparks of others because I let it.
I discovered masturbating when I was 5. I had realized it was the closest good feeling I have in feeling established to the world. I learned to feel right only in isolation, and to never live among others. Similar emotional patterns have developed through out the course of my childhood. Extensive consumption of social media. Driven to live by the consumerist culture of kids toys, superhero films, and the like. Tragically, I never learned the story in any of those films as a child. It only felt good.
I was a greedy and selfish bitch. I would pity my classmates into giving me their toys because I nobody taught me to be responsible for the things that I give and take. I would often try to replicate the excitement of others to gain attention, but I never really wanted to be around them. I never really knew how to learn things. I was just able to learn because I was able to feel good consistently. I didn't really stand out, though. I was just weird.
I think my reality first crashed on me when my best friend and his playmates bullied me out of the grade school basketball team. My father, who was a decent basketball player, wanted me to play the sport, although he never really taught me it. I wasn't good at it. I just wanted a sense of identity from my father. Then that didn't work out.
I've undergone this psychoanalysis of self before, too much times to count. Isolating defense mechanisms reinforced during childhood in reaction to trauma, coupled with the lacking development of strong senses of morality and healthy routines. It would be a recurring theme to my life, and I'd assume it would be the same for the most of you who read this.
At some point, it all developed into a very concrete sense of disassociation. There was always a me with thoughts and actions different from the me who lived in others, and I could never show it right. It never felt right being angry in the world. I wanted to be angry outside of it. I wanted my anger to take everything, as if that would feel like I would have my identity. As I only know to isolate my anger, there was only one way: to kill myself.
Once I realized that I could simply kill myself and finally reconcile my own anger, I felt happy for the first time. If I could only think about death all the time, I would be happy. It was my drug and release. I could say it as an excuse for every single thing I am being irresponsible towards. I'm going to kill myself anyway, so what's the point? I found my identity in death. Self-pity was my weapon. I was my depression and weakness.
Am I right? I want to be. But anyone else who is living would say otherwise. And even if someone were to affirm me of it, I wouldn't want that answer. It an answer full of reconciliation and dignity, and not anger and the lack of dignity.
Eventually, I know that I would be so angry that I would eventually kill myself. I guess it's taking place now.
Human life and death co-exist each other, peacefully so if you would say it in some moral fashion. Yet this is not the case for the suicidal. There is conflict in the suicidal. An irredeemable one. When the fact of life and death as immanent cannot stand anymore, no matter how many times you convince yourself, that is the case of suicide. Both forces of nature exist outside of your own existence. Why want to usurp the very nature of this peace? Why would we want to disturb the peace of the facts of life and death?
We choose to live, then we choose to die. Relative to our lives, these forces can be participatory or non-participatory. Perhaps this is what it means for human life and death to be immanent forces of nature; a reasonable dead-end. We can choose to do either one anyway, and we'll get there soon. What is the point of investing all this reason into this?
To make the passing of our lives easier, humans in critical condition can opt for clinical methods of passing away, alongside the many in this forum who have done so. In fact, the modern concept of sanctioned suicide is to make the fact of life and death more peaceful, to ease the transition in between. Likewise in a psychiatric fashion, humans can opt to take measures against their want to die - their need to usurp the fact of life and death. There are many methods in the world that can ease the fact of life and death, and such is this modern idea of suicide.
But what of the form of suicide that cannot be reconciled with these modern methods? What of suicide that exists before the age we have now: the age of choice? What sort of person would want to die, yet list all these words down as if to emancipate themselves in a death-like fashion? What sort of person would want to specifically purge all senses of reason to achieve their own idea of true death?
According to the first words of the first every recorded suicidal in history:
It's already a very well-known fact, but it must be stated again. The origin of suicide is disturbance. The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.
I didn't really have any sort of identity as a child. I wasn't really taught to have one. Then again, my parents were probably the same. Driven by the pursuits of their mothers and fathers before them, and always stuck in a past sense of reflection. Only until recently was my own existence an aphorism. Short-lived, and only sparked by the sparks of others because I let it.
I discovered masturbating when I was 5. I had realized it was the closest good feeling I have in feeling established to the world. I learned to feel right only in isolation, and to never live among others. Similar emotional patterns have developed through out the course of my childhood. Extensive consumption of social media. Driven to live by the consumerist culture of kids toys, superhero films, and the like. Tragically, I never learned the story in any of those films as a child. It only felt good.
I was a greedy and selfish bitch. I would pity my classmates into giving me their toys because I nobody taught me to be responsible for the things that I give and take. I would often try to replicate the excitement of others to gain attention, but I never really wanted to be around them. I never really knew how to learn things. I was just able to learn because I was able to feel good consistently. I didn't really stand out, though. I was just weird.
I think my reality first crashed on me when my best friend and his playmates bullied me out of the grade school basketball team. My father, who was a decent basketball player, wanted me to play the sport, although he never really taught me it. I wasn't good at it. I just wanted a sense of identity from my father. Then that didn't work out.
I've undergone this psychoanalysis of self before, too much times to count. Isolating defense mechanisms reinforced during childhood in reaction to trauma, coupled with the lacking development of strong senses of morality and healthy routines. It would be a recurring theme to my life, and I'd assume it would be the same for the most of you who read this.
At some point, it all developed into a very concrete sense of disassociation. There was always a me with thoughts and actions different from the me who lived in others, and I could never show it right. It never felt right being angry in the world. I wanted to be angry outside of it. I wanted my anger to take everything, as if that would feel like I would have my identity. As I only know to isolate my anger, there was only one way: to kill myself.
Once I realized that I could simply kill myself and finally reconcile my own anger, I felt happy for the first time. If I could only think about death all the time, I would be happy. It was my drug and release. I could say it as an excuse for every single thing I am being irresponsible towards. I'm going to kill myself anyway, so what's the point? I found my identity in death. Self-pity was my weapon. I was my depression and weakness.
Am I right? I want to be. But anyone else who is living would say otherwise. And even if someone were to affirm me of it, I wouldn't want that answer. It an answer full of reconciliation and dignity, and not anger and the lack of dignity.
Eventually, I know that I would be so angry that I would eventually kill myself. I guess it's taking place now.
Human life and death co-exist each other, peacefully so if you would say it in some moral fashion. Yet this is not the case for the suicidal. There is conflict in the suicidal. An irredeemable one. When the fact of life and death as immanent cannot stand anymore, no matter how many times you convince yourself, that is the case of suicide. Both forces of nature exist outside of your own existence. Why want to usurp the very nature of this peace? Why would we want to disturb the peace of the facts of life and death?
We choose to live, then we choose to die. Relative to our lives, these forces can be participatory or non-participatory. Perhaps this is what it means for human life and death to be immanent forces of nature; a reasonable dead-end. We can choose to do either one anyway, and we'll get there soon. What is the point of investing all this reason into this?
To make the passing of our lives easier, humans in critical condition can opt for clinical methods of passing away, alongside the many in this forum who have done so. In fact, the modern concept of sanctioned suicide is to make the fact of life and death more peaceful, to ease the transition in between. Likewise in a psychiatric fashion, humans can opt to take measures against their want to die - their need to usurp the fact of life and death. There are many methods in the world that can ease the fact of life and death, and such is this modern idea of suicide.
But what of the form of suicide that cannot be reconciled with these modern methods? What of suicide that exists before the age we have now: the age of choice? What sort of person would want to die, yet list all these words down as if to emancipate themselves in a death-like fashion? What sort of person would want to specifically purge all senses of reason to achieve their own idea of true death?
According to the first words of the first every recorded suicidal in history:
It's already a very well-known fact, but it must be stated again. The origin of suicide is disturbance. The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.The origin of suicide is disturbance.
