MechanicalMishka
Active member
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 37
- Reaction score
- 0
Perhaps I choose it.
Hey, anyone in here? Hello? Are you alive? Or masked even now?
I spent a year without leaving the house. I don't know why, don't fully remember neither what caused it nor the actual process. Then another year after just going out to traditionally annual New Year party. Prolonged solitude can make talking to people difficult, writing too. Every second word feels like giving birth to a bloodied hedgehog fetus or shitting out a cactus. My voice is monotonous, facial expressions are rare and a simple smile is almost non-existent.
Being aware of suicide is convenient. A thought alerts you again, it whispers "you will perish unless you do something", it haunts you for a few moments, makes you jerk a limb, produce a random sound which doesn't help anymore. Just don't forget to counter-think it, "as soon as honeysuckle hits the fan I'll just die", it always works. With self-concern dispelled, relief.
But you are a coward if you choose suicide over struggle. Death is an easy way out!
I am. It is.
Think about your family, people that need you and love you! Me! I'll die too.
OK. But dead men are not aware once they're dead.
Then dead men are selfish and cruel!
No, they are dead.
Life is wonderful. There is love and happiness, you will find it someday, just don't give up!
That is not bound to happen. Anyway, dead men do not regret about missing out on anything.
Perhaps loneliness is mine by choice. Seems like people try to live obeying to some sort of predefined script. They are crazy constructs, not me. Mimicking each other for generations, over and over and over again. Doing what they don't want to do to buy honeysuckle that they don't need. Saying what they are expected to say and thinking not what they believe in. Deceiving themselves on purpose until they forget what they were truly about. More fake than a lie. Why should I waste my time (which is limited) by faking myself among fake imitations of humans huh?
No one is ugly, it's all about confidence.
Come on..
Everyone is equal, there is happiness for everyone.
Some are in pain. Others have orgasms.
Money can't buy happiness.
Ah, I expected that one.
Am I stereotypically wise and old enough to post this? I don't matter, nothing matters, I just want that feeling back, do you remember it? I don't think I can describe it, there is no solid word for it that I know of, but let me try. It's a mysterious fleeting sensation of being complete and serene, everything is clear, you are whole with the world and nature, you can feel and listen to it, perhaps even have magical powers at your fingertips. It evades my ability to capture that feeling in words of any language, it's too powerful, supernatural even. You felt it when you were a child, did you forget? Was it erased from your conscious mind by years of existing by the guidelines of good-mannered lawful society? Did you abandon it by submitting to artificial boundaries that people blindly built around you?
I'd feel like disintegrating in shame if you point me towards Wikipedia page that defines that sensation with emotionless hollow scientific terms. But shame is a restraint. Say whatever you want. Or don't. Apathy takes the reigns when I'm about to post unfortunately. So pointless.
Press ctrl-A.
What for?
Now press delete.
You want me to delete it?
That looks angsty.
Maybe so, but it's honest.
Come on, veils are worn for a reason.
I don't need a reason to be honest.
OK then, make a fool out of yourself, you're not me, why should I care?
I can do anything I want.
Yeah, right.
------
What do you say? Existential ******* what? Don't try to define MY way of thoughts with your virginity-preserving superior education you self-righteous math-man.
Hey, anyone in here? Hello? Are you alive? Or masked even now?
I spent a year without leaving the house. I don't know why, don't fully remember neither what caused it nor the actual process. Then another year after just going out to traditionally annual New Year party. Prolonged solitude can make talking to people difficult, writing too. Every second word feels like giving birth to a bloodied hedgehog fetus or shitting out a cactus. My voice is monotonous, facial expressions are rare and a simple smile is almost non-existent.
Being aware of suicide is convenient. A thought alerts you again, it whispers "you will perish unless you do something", it haunts you for a few moments, makes you jerk a limb, produce a random sound which doesn't help anymore. Just don't forget to counter-think it, "as soon as honeysuckle hits the fan I'll just die", it always works. With self-concern dispelled, relief.
But you are a coward if you choose suicide over struggle. Death is an easy way out!
I am. It is.
Think about your family, people that need you and love you! Me! I'll die too.
OK. But dead men are not aware once they're dead.
Then dead men are selfish and cruel!
No, they are dead.
Life is wonderful. There is love and happiness, you will find it someday, just don't give up!
That is not bound to happen. Anyway, dead men do not regret about missing out on anything.
Perhaps loneliness is mine by choice. Seems like people try to live obeying to some sort of predefined script. They are crazy constructs, not me. Mimicking each other for generations, over and over and over again. Doing what they don't want to do to buy honeysuckle that they don't need. Saying what they are expected to say and thinking not what they believe in. Deceiving themselves on purpose until they forget what they were truly about. More fake than a lie. Why should I waste my time (which is limited) by faking myself among fake imitations of humans huh?
No one is ugly, it's all about confidence.
Come on..
Everyone is equal, there is happiness for everyone.
Some are in pain. Others have orgasms.
Money can't buy happiness.
Ah, I expected that one.
Am I stereotypically wise and old enough to post this? I don't matter, nothing matters, I just want that feeling back, do you remember it? I don't think I can describe it, there is no solid word for it that I know of, but let me try. It's a mysterious fleeting sensation of being complete and serene, everything is clear, you are whole with the world and nature, you can feel and listen to it, perhaps even have magical powers at your fingertips. It evades my ability to capture that feeling in words of any language, it's too powerful, supernatural even. You felt it when you were a child, did you forget? Was it erased from your conscious mind by years of existing by the guidelines of good-mannered lawful society? Did you abandon it by submitting to artificial boundaries that people blindly built around you?
I'd feel like disintegrating in shame if you point me towards Wikipedia page that defines that sensation with emotionless hollow scientific terms. But shame is a restraint. Say whatever you want. Or don't. Apathy takes the reigns when I'm about to post unfortunately. So pointless.
Press ctrl-A.
What for?
Now press delete.
You want me to delete it?
That looks angsty.
Maybe so, but it's honest.
Come on, veils are worn for a reason.
I don't need a reason to be honest.
OK then, make a fool out of yourself, you're not me, why should I care?
I can do anything I want.
Yeah, right.
------
What do you say? Existential ******* what? Don't try to define MY way of thoughts with your virginity-preserving superior education you self-righteous math-man.
