Grotes4ue
New Member
- Nov 16, 2025
- 2
This is a story of recovery. Perhaps my endured experiences and thoughts on the matter will be of help to someone.
You know, it seems to me that we need a special, inherent only to a few, relationship with death. Some here are precisely those, like me, whom Hesse in Steppenwolf called "born suicides." The term from the dead religion of psychoanalysis also suits us: the "death drive" or "mortido." But that is beside the point; my thought is as follows: we need to free ourselves from tragic pathos and the victim stance, from despair and sentimentalism. We need to stop pitying ourselves, stop cultivating our suffering, giving it an aesthetic form. I understand many have been through hard times, and I do not wish to offend or devalue your suffering, but here I am addressing only those who are kindred spirits, those who are attracted to these thoughts.
So, there is a branch of culture, a guide to death: Hagakure. And if I lacked the courage to live according to the main principle of this philosophy, I never ceased to admire it — "in a situation of or-or, without hesitation, choose death." It is a cult of death that returns you to life, but to a worthy life, not the one that was. I do not want to die in despair, in death throes, convulsing; I would like to die with the phrase of Tullius on my lips: "Let us depart from life as from a banquet." These contemptuous words strip death of its false pathos, and it transforms from a tragedy into something tedious and ordinary. This is what I have always striven for.
But during a period of spiritual confusion, the darkest night, a nervous breakdown, and a hysterical fit as the climax of my severe depression — when I was browsing to choose and rent a house for a couple of days where no one would stop me from finishing the job — I remember how I was still writing, delirious, to that couple of people I was in touch with at the time, like a teenager, in hysterics. In that period of spiritual weakness and mental vulnerability, I even succumbed to the advances of a female acquaintance; she was a lesbian, I'm glad I didn't sleep with her, but it's hard to describe the disgust I felt when it was all over, from having kissed her; I felt as if I had been soiled by something very filthy (I come from a very patriarchal family and have a puritanical upbringing).
In short, it all ended in one day and one night — the most climactic, heaviest, and most fatal of my entire life. The turning point was not a desire to be happy, but a disgust with my own weakness. Then I saw how pathetic and weak, how insignificant I was — at least to myself and to the standards I had always held myself to. I also always had the plan to end my life at 30, maybe earlier, but no later. I saw all this and understood — I never again in my life want to look so pathetic and insignificant, so miserable. The point is not death and suicide, but the internal state. I was healed that day. The plan for 30, all the suffering and tears... And do you know what all of it was? Pathetic, wretched sentimentality, self-pity, the role of a drowning man, poeticization, romanticism, the number 30 — it was all pathetic, cheap tragic pathos, spiritual weakness, mental deficiency, et cetera, et cetera...
Then I understood the most important thing — the point is not to rejoice in life and practice positive thinking; if you want to, you can die. But I told myself that I NEVER AGAIN WANT TO SEE MYSELF IN SUCH A STATE. I DO NOT WANT TO DIE BEING SUCH A WEAKLING. I want to reclaim my strength. Yes, that was my healing.
After that, every aspect of life — both external and internal — began to fall into an ordered and harmonious state. I realized, experienced, and neutralized the main and deep-seated causes of all my problems. Now, I am even more deeply mastering and entrenching the main tenets of the philosophy to which I am drawn. I lived through what Nietzsche wrote about: when he said that the greatest thing a person can experience is the hour of great contempt for oneself, when one's suffering and one's very self become disgusting to them.
In this world of philosophy, death is not something destructive; on the contrary, it is reduced to something banal and insignificant. But the main thing — spiritual strength, personal superiority, and mental resilience — is the triptych and cornerstone of my aspirations. You can't imagine, believe me, how pleasant it is — to be strong.
I find it very important that suicide is not discarded or condemned, as in some cheap happy ending. You do not turn away from death itself; rather, you gain the strength to look it proudly in the face. While others, closing their eyes, leap into the abyss — you gaze into it and laugh.
I hope this story is somewhat coherent in its sequence.
If anything in it resonates with you, then seek salvation, as I do, in self-discipline and self-development. It is important that this is not about loving life through denying the darkness. It is, rather, the building of an inner fortress, capable of withstanding any storm even in the darkest night. Know that for some, for those like me (and, perhaps, like you), there is a different path, more severe than self-acceptance. In the modern world, oriented toward comfort and care, this thought sounds like heresy. But for a certain type of person — for those very "born suicides" — it may be the only true one. This is the path of self-determination through self-abnegation. You do not accept your "inner child" — you execute it.
You know, it seems to me that we need a special, inherent only to a few, relationship with death. Some here are precisely those, like me, whom Hesse in Steppenwolf called "born suicides." The term from the dead religion of psychoanalysis also suits us: the "death drive" or "mortido." But that is beside the point; my thought is as follows: we need to free ourselves from tragic pathos and the victim stance, from despair and sentimentalism. We need to stop pitying ourselves, stop cultivating our suffering, giving it an aesthetic form. I understand many have been through hard times, and I do not wish to offend or devalue your suffering, but here I am addressing only those who are kindred spirits, those who are attracted to these thoughts.
So, there is a branch of culture, a guide to death: Hagakure. And if I lacked the courage to live according to the main principle of this philosophy, I never ceased to admire it — "in a situation of or-or, without hesitation, choose death." It is a cult of death that returns you to life, but to a worthy life, not the one that was. I do not want to die in despair, in death throes, convulsing; I would like to die with the phrase of Tullius on my lips: "Let us depart from life as from a banquet." These contemptuous words strip death of its false pathos, and it transforms from a tragedy into something tedious and ordinary. This is what I have always striven for.
But during a period of spiritual confusion, the darkest night, a nervous breakdown, and a hysterical fit as the climax of my severe depression — when I was browsing to choose and rent a house for a couple of days where no one would stop me from finishing the job — I remember how I was still writing, delirious, to that couple of people I was in touch with at the time, like a teenager, in hysterics. In that period of spiritual weakness and mental vulnerability, I even succumbed to the advances of a female acquaintance; she was a lesbian, I'm glad I didn't sleep with her, but it's hard to describe the disgust I felt when it was all over, from having kissed her; I felt as if I had been soiled by something very filthy (I come from a very patriarchal family and have a puritanical upbringing).
In short, it all ended in one day and one night — the most climactic, heaviest, and most fatal of my entire life. The turning point was not a desire to be happy, but a disgust with my own weakness. Then I saw how pathetic and weak, how insignificant I was — at least to myself and to the standards I had always held myself to. I also always had the plan to end my life at 30, maybe earlier, but no later. I saw all this and understood — I never again in my life want to look so pathetic and insignificant, so miserable. The point is not death and suicide, but the internal state. I was healed that day. The plan for 30, all the suffering and tears... And do you know what all of it was? Pathetic, wretched sentimentality, self-pity, the role of a drowning man, poeticization, romanticism, the number 30 — it was all pathetic, cheap tragic pathos, spiritual weakness, mental deficiency, et cetera, et cetera...
Then I understood the most important thing — the point is not to rejoice in life and practice positive thinking; if you want to, you can die. But I told myself that I NEVER AGAIN WANT TO SEE MYSELF IN SUCH A STATE. I DO NOT WANT TO DIE BEING SUCH A WEAKLING. I want to reclaim my strength. Yes, that was my healing.
After that, every aspect of life — both external and internal — began to fall into an ordered and harmonious state. I realized, experienced, and neutralized the main and deep-seated causes of all my problems. Now, I am even more deeply mastering and entrenching the main tenets of the philosophy to which I am drawn. I lived through what Nietzsche wrote about: when he said that the greatest thing a person can experience is the hour of great contempt for oneself, when one's suffering and one's very self become disgusting to them.
In this world of philosophy, death is not something destructive; on the contrary, it is reduced to something banal and insignificant. But the main thing — spiritual strength, personal superiority, and mental resilience — is the triptych and cornerstone of my aspirations. You can't imagine, believe me, how pleasant it is — to be strong.
I find it very important that suicide is not discarded or condemned, as in some cheap happy ending. You do not turn away from death itself; rather, you gain the strength to look it proudly in the face. While others, closing their eyes, leap into the abyss — you gaze into it and laugh.
I hope this story is somewhat coherent in its sequence.
If anything in it resonates with you, then seek salvation, as I do, in self-discipline and self-development. It is important that this is not about loving life through denying the darkness. It is, rather, the building of an inner fortress, capable of withstanding any storm even in the darkest night. Know that for some, for those like me (and, perhaps, like you), there is a different path, more severe than self-acceptance. In the modern world, oriented toward comfort and care, this thought sounds like heresy. But for a certain type of person — for those very "born suicides" — it may be the only true one. This is the path of self-determination through self-abnegation. You do not accept your "inner child" — you execute it.
