DominusWreck
BloodRider666
- Aug 2, 2020
- 62
I mean, I am just tired, even though i am still young. I feel like I've lived ten lives and in am tired. I imagine the necessity of having to do something every day for decades. And I feel so lazy.
I mean, I don't enjoy life, or living as a process, and the more I live , the less appeal life has. But the amount of effort that I've got to put in just to go on is growing somehow.
I enjoyed being drunk. In fact the only pleasant memories I've got are from being drunk. But I am completely unproductive when drinking. Even less so than when I am sober so I can't make a living and drink at the same time, alas. I'd like to drink quietly in a dark room and read books and not be bothered and just talk to myself. But one has to do something to be able to subsist. And I just don't feel like I want to. Too much effort for nothing really. Like Even getting out of bed is a feat.
I'd probably enjoy heroin, even though I haven't tried it, but from what I've read, it's good. Drift away in blissful oblivion. But heroin isn't free either. So to get this kind of oblivion one needs to do something, and I just don't feel like doing anything. Too much effort....
And no, I am not depressed in the clinical sense. I am not even sad really. I am just so tired and lazy.... damn it
Anyone feels the same way?
And when you feel this way, thoughts of death, with its promise of peace and quitness and no more burden of having to exist fill up my mind and a smile appears on my face. Death seems to be a kind old friend that was waiting for me patiently. And when I call for her, it is mercy and calm that she will bring.
How can I resist the kind summon of an old friend promising liberation from memories and thoughts and matter and time itself....
The locked room of my head is so solipsistic. And Kafkaesque terrors lurk in it. And all I have to do to open the room is to call for death.
How can I resist? How can you?
I mean, I don't enjoy life, or living as a process, and the more I live , the less appeal life has. But the amount of effort that I've got to put in just to go on is growing somehow.
I enjoyed being drunk. In fact the only pleasant memories I've got are from being drunk. But I am completely unproductive when drinking. Even less so than when I am sober so I can't make a living and drink at the same time, alas. I'd like to drink quietly in a dark room and read books and not be bothered and just talk to myself. But one has to do something to be able to subsist. And I just don't feel like I want to. Too much effort for nothing really. Like Even getting out of bed is a feat.
I'd probably enjoy heroin, even though I haven't tried it, but from what I've read, it's good. Drift away in blissful oblivion. But heroin isn't free either. So to get this kind of oblivion one needs to do something, and I just don't feel like doing anything. Too much effort....
And no, I am not depressed in the clinical sense. I am not even sad really. I am just so tired and lazy.... damn it
Anyone feels the same way?
And when you feel this way, thoughts of death, with its promise of peace and quitness and no more burden of having to exist fill up my mind and a smile appears on my face. Death seems to be a kind old friend that was waiting for me patiently. And when I call for her, it is mercy and calm that she will bring.
How can I resist the kind summon of an old friend promising liberation from memories and thoughts and matter and time itself....
The locked room of my head is so solipsistic. And Kafkaesque terrors lurk in it. And all I have to do to open the room is to call for death.
How can I resist? How can you?
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