Celerity
shape without form, shade without colour
- Jan 24, 2021
- 2,733
I haven't wanted to actively kill myself in a few weeks now. If I were diagnosed with a new illness that threatened my life, terminal or not, I would try my best to follow the doctor's orders.
Still, when I ask myself whether I should have killed myself years ago, the answer I come to is still "yes" more often than not.
If I ask myself how I would feel about dying suddenly (say, in a freak accident, a shooting, or a bad car wreck), the idea of it just doesn't bother me that much. Though I know that I would be terrified in those last few moments, the scenario still feels to me as if I'm weighing the life of a fictional character, not even a stranger (whom I would care more about) or as if I'm reading about one of those moral dilemmas philosophers love to engage in mental masturbation over - like I'm one of the poorly-drawn murder victims in the trolley cart problem.
I want to understand how I inevitably end up back here every time I start to make any progress. When I consider the last few weeks, the predominant painful feelings are alienation and humiliation. I feel alone, and I feel useless.
Is there any way my life can change for the better to where I don't feel this way? Is there anything I can do (or stop doing) to make it so?
I know the exquisite shittiness of this limbo has been discussed here many times before. For anyone who has been in this quagmire, have you identified what in life or in yourself keeps bringing you back to this point?
Still, when I ask myself whether I should have killed myself years ago, the answer I come to is still "yes" more often than not.
If I ask myself how I would feel about dying suddenly (say, in a freak accident, a shooting, or a bad car wreck), the idea of it just doesn't bother me that much. Though I know that I would be terrified in those last few moments, the scenario still feels to me as if I'm weighing the life of a fictional character, not even a stranger (whom I would care more about) or as if I'm reading about one of those moral dilemmas philosophers love to engage in mental masturbation over - like I'm one of the poorly-drawn murder victims in the trolley cart problem.
I want to understand how I inevitably end up back here every time I start to make any progress. When I consider the last few weeks, the predominant painful feelings are alienation and humiliation. I feel alone, and I feel useless.
Is there any way my life can change for the better to where I don't feel this way? Is there anything I can do (or stop doing) to make it so?
I know the exquisite shittiness of this limbo has been discussed here many times before. For anyone who has been in this quagmire, have you identified what in life or in yourself keeps bringing you back to this point?
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