Life for me has become a bitter drink, and yet it must be taken in drops, slowly, counting.

[Epsilon0]

"Life for me has become a bitter drink, and yet it must be taken in drops, slowly, counting.

No one comes back from the dead; no one has come into the world without weeping. No one asks when one wants to come in; no one asks when one wants to go out.

Time passes, life is a stream, etc., so people say. That is not what I find: time stands still, and so do I. All the plans I project fly straight back at me; when I want to spit, I spit in my own face. When I get up in the morning, I go right back to bed again. I feel best in the evening the moment I put out the light and pull the feather-bed over my head. I sit up once more, look around the room with indescribable satisfaction, and then good night, down under the feather-bed."

Sören Kierkegaard (Either/Or)

 

[Deleted member 1465]

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

 

[TheSuicidalEccentric]

At least when we were born we were blessed with the opportunity for death. Death is the next step in life. The inevitable next step.