Alright I tried to write something based on something I felt, but it's taking me more time than I can manage so I'm just posting the draft without revision.
I'm having this weird realization that I can't really, deeply, in-your-face think about death. Not on demand.
Despite having imminent death on the front-end of my thoughts most of the time. I don't always dread it, because I can't fully engage with the reality of it whenever I want.
It's an illusion
This is supposed to be quite natural, I understand that. But this bothers me. Why the fuck am I falling back to suicide at around every corner of my life when I don't
This lack of control, over so, so, so, so many things... is barely bearable. Less and less bearable as time goes by. A persistent feeling of slowly going crazy.
We can't rely on our gut to do the right thing, i.e. commit suicide. We have to consciously, methodically, intellectually beat SI.
I don't know what the fuck I'm saying. I don't believe what I think. Therefore I can't talk, can't connect. I would love it if it didn't effect me, but I guess this is a pretty natural need.
Anyhow, this is the reason I give myself to ctb. Sometimes.
What I want is to solve life, be god, to be able to kill myself like it's the most natural thing in the world.
That's just what I want. Now what I need to do, and that's the only* thing I really need to do, is grab my balls and jump to the other side.
*Oh the comfort in having one thing to do, one thing only.
I'm having this weird realization that I can't really, deeply, in-your-face think about death. Not on demand.
Despite having imminent death on the front-end of my thoughts most of the time. I don't always dread it, because I can't fully engage with the reality of it whenever I want.
It's an illusion
This is supposed to be quite natural, I understand that. But this bothers me. Why the fuck am I falling back to suicide at around every corner of my life when I don't
This lack of control, over so, so, so, so many things... is barely bearable. Less and less bearable as time goes by. A persistent feeling of slowly going crazy.
We can't rely on our gut to do the right thing, i.e. commit suicide. We have to consciously, methodically, intellectually beat SI.
I don't know what the fuck I'm saying. I don't believe what I think. Therefore I can't talk, can't connect. I would love it if it didn't effect me, but I guess this is a pretty natural need.
Anyhow, this is the reason I give myself to ctb. Sometimes.
What I want is to solve life, be god, to be able to kill myself like it's the most natural thing in the world.
That's just what I want. Now what I need to do, and that's the only* thing I really need to do, is grab my balls and jump to the other side.
*Oh the comfort in having one thing to do, one thing only.
