You know… It’s so tragic it’s almost funny. At times I feel like I have everything figured out, all my I’s dotted, all my T’s crossed. And in the end. I really don’t have shit. I have nothing. Zip, Zero FUCKING ZILCH. When it comes right down to it, I am a goddamn fucking wreck. Emotionally, Mentally, and Physically, all round I am Fucked. Fucked. Fucked. Fucked. Fucked. Fucked. I’m so Fucked that I really don’t even know how fucked I am. I keep thinking, keep telling myself “oh just take one more step, one more breath, have just a tad, a smidge more compassion for yourself – It’ll get better eventually, it has to.” And instead, it does exactly the opposite. It just continues spiraling, deeper and deeper, ever downward, the surface of this ocean, the light at the end, ever receding.
Lies. All I ever hear and tell myself. Empty. Hallow. Lies. The more you struggle the less you succeed, all that’s left now is to be lost beneath the waves, to give in to the despair and hopelessness, sweet release. And yet…I can’t. I don’t know if it is cowardice, fear of that final great transition, or what it is that keeps fighting. It’s like there’s a little light inside of me, that I wish I could just stamp out so I could stop struggling, so I could stop feeling. I DIDN’T CHOOSE OR ASK TO BE THIS WAY. I JUST FUCKING AM.
And then I flash back, to a tall figure standing in a black coat in the middle of bridge in the dead of night, white hands frozen to the guardrail. The Frigid wind whispers “Jump”, the dark waters whisper, “don’t worry, we’ll catch you.” And then…The Silence. The insufferable, cold, uncaring silence, it roars, it screams “No. Not like this. Not like this.” Tears. Big Fucking Coward. Backing away from bliss, from the sweet, sweet release of non-attachment.
The light. It still shines. This goddamn, fucking cursed light. Sure, it will let the blade touch flesh, but never deep enough. Coward. It will let the mind watch and contemplate stepping in front of that bus, but the feet remain planted in safety. Coward. It can stare into the abyss, but never become one with it. COWARD! The only thing that separates me from eternal freedom is this tiny little insignificant candle. And I am too big a Coward to touch it. To snuff it the fuck out. What Am I afraid of? The Darkness? It couldn’t be worse than the light. Of Change? That’s what I desire most of FUCKING ALL. And every time I reach for it, strive for it, move towards it, I am rebuffed, turned around and sent head over fucking heels away from it.
Every time I reach for that fucking candle, my hand is stayed. “No, No, not like this. No.” And so it burns. It flickers in the wind, gutters and sputters, and against all odds stays lit. I Scream at it into the darkness, “WHY?! Why won’t you Just go out, just give the fuck up already? The rest of you already has! Where is your Meaning? What is your Fucking PURPOSE?” The only response I get is more flickering, guttering and sputtering. The more I stare into the flame, the less sane I feel. All it does is remind me of the huge, gaping void gnawing at the pith of my being. A void that should be filled with love, smiles, laughter and wholesome, healthy human relationships, the very things that I so strongly desire from the darkest reaches of my core that it physically hurts! And yet…they are the very things I am unable to form, unable to attain. The only things that elude my grasp. And why. Why is it thus? Because they require intimacy. Yes, intimacy – sickening, vile, repulsive, unbearable…Intimacy. The kind that requires one to be vulnerable, to be potentially subjected to the whims of another corrupt, wicked, wretched human being. That kind of intimacy.
And so I carry on in this void. Floating through time, whipping through space, dying the slowest death of all – one breath at a time. Just my little light…and me.
They say comedy is just tragedy plus time. I suppose in the end all we can do is laugh – At the ridiculousness of this existence, at the futility of it all, at the fact that in carrying on, the only guarantee is more pain and more suffering, and yet, we continue to do so. But Why? What could be worth being subjugated to this reality?
I don’t have the answer. Maybe you do. I hope you find one and are kind enough to share it.
As for me, maybe the darkness is the answer, maybe the reason I can’t put out my light is because then the darkness would be all alone with itself, and knowing the pain of that loneliness and isolation, I can’t put it through that. Maybe the darkness can feel, can experience joy and pain, sorrow and happiness, ecstasy and regret, Loneliness and Love. Or maybe it is the counterpart to my experience, the piece that experiences nothing at all. Wouldn’t it be the most beautiful, lovely and incredible tragedy, to exist, to carry on and suffer immensely for something that doesn’t care, that can’t care, even one single tiny bit? – Now that my friends – that’s comedy.
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Wow Zen, a lot of what you say are things I also believe to be true, things that are also true about my life. You say you know nothing, which is famously believed to be one of the main realizations for someone who is figuring a lot of things out. Personally, I think you know things, but I also don’t know anything, so what can I say.
“In the end all we can do is laugh”. That’s exactly what I do. I do my best, and don’t really give a shit, and laugh. I laugh with despair, but the laughter is genuine, and people seem to think I’m laughing because I’m a fulfilled, content human being.
Why live? That’s a pretty famous question, I guess. I guess my answer is, why not? If one believes the afterlife, or heaven, or whatever one may believe in, will be all sunshine and butterflies, then I don’t really know if my reason is applicable. But I believe that humans are caught in a cycle. We relive the same story over and over, through many lifetimes, in many different contexts. Who you are never changes, and for that reason the struggles you go through will never change. No Nirvana in my weird, self-made buddhism, I suppose. No Enlightenments. The best one can be is Sisyphus and the worst one can be Sisyphus.
Thus, there’s no real reason to die. Running from a problem is only a temporary solution. This has always been true.
Anyways, just some thoughts. They may or may not help you; hopefully they do.
Thank you for your reply Mordred, I appreciate the time, effort and thought you committed to it. Honestly, I really don’t know anything. I have a few thoughts and perceptions of things, but know? Nada. I guess my question to you is – when you laugh, whether driven by despair, or ridiculousness, or joy, which feels more real and more genuine to you? I’ve been to my breaking point when I was so…lost or overwhelmed all I could do was laugh…but it felt…empty. As if it weren’t genuine, just a glitch reaction produced by an overloaded system.
I like your view…except maybe the endless cycle. I’d like to believe there is some end to it all. I feel as though the very nature of this reality is change…however, if the nature is change, then could one alter every last detail of the story but the outcome be the exact same? Actually Yes. Death.
I feel as though Albert Camus’ “walking the razors edge of absurdity” comes into play then. Life is meaningless, there is no God. Therefore rather than committing Suicide or running back to a false God, man must shoulder the responsibility of God, and absurdly act as though his actions have meaning, dancing along the razors edge, which he will inevitably fall off of, but with the great freedom of knowing that since his actions have no meaning, he must act as if they do. Absurdity.
(Sorry for the Ramble, Just working through the thought process)
You speak truth, “In running away from our problems, we are truly only running deeper into them”
Thank you again for your thoughts, time and effort. They are much appreciated.
I wish you Peace along your path, and
Joy within your heart,
-Zen
I’m really sorry for you and sadly I have to say I have no real advice I could give you, except for saying that if you know someone, I would recommend you to talk to him/her about this. It could really help and maybe that person also knows how you can get better. But otherwise I also have no real idea what to do. The only thing I wanted to let you know is that I read your post and can understand what you feel like. I also experience the lies and the tiny little bit of hope that prevents me from suicide. I want to say that you’re not alone. Many others can relate to you and some of them can maybe also give you a good advice. I really hope that someone out there can help you more than I can.
Still, I wish you all the best and hope that you finally find your path to happiness.
Hi Hope,
Thank you for your kindness and compassion. I’m…slowly finding the help I need. As it always is, the answer is more time, more patience, and less expectations. I’m sorry you can understand, but it feels better knowing someone can relate.
From one heart to another – Thank you.
May you be filled with loving kindness,
May you be safe from inner and outer dangers,
May you be well in body and mind,
May you be happy and at ease
-Zen
Thank you very much for your kind reply Zen and all your nice, encouraging words. They got really rare these days. I highly appreciate that you took the time and wrote this. And especially I’m very relieved to hear that you’re finding the help you need and I hope you can get over it soon and enjoy the easygoing and marvelous life you actually deserve.
Best wishes, Hope
Comedy is tragedy plus time. I really like that. It makes so much sense this morning. I find a great deal of humor in my own personal tragedy, I look back at the trainwreck of my existence and some days I laugh so hard I can’t see through the tears.
And sometimes, like Friday, it gets really quiet and I make plans, methodical plans, to end the quiet.
So Zen, is it the quiet or the noise that cause you to just want to check out of this world? Intimacy can be either. I don’t even like the word intimacy. That is such a dirty word. Even thinking of it rolling off my tongue. Certainly dirtier than shit or fuck, at least in my book. Swear words are fighting words, but intimacy? That is a victim’s words. When I think of my being intimate, that makes me a victim in this world.
Intimacy. The idea someone has something on me, that will hurt me, destroy my life, not physically but emotionally, the part that I protect with all my wonderful swear words. I do so love a good swear word.
Friday I had one hand on the rail of your bridge and one foot dangling over the dark water. I was daring myself to let go, it was a little thrilling, I am a little breathless thinking of it right now. I took a chance, really I took two chances, two intimate chances. The second came through for me. I’m a little pink faced thinking of what I said to him on Friday, that level of intimacy, that filth that ultimately makes up what is at the core of my soul, was exposed for him. He couldn’t have walked away, he didn’t. So I put my feet back up on the rail, took his hand and walked toward the scrub trees and prickly pear and sat on an old ledge. It wasn’t perfect, and I hate him a little for saving me, but it is what it is. This filth I live with.
So I understand Zen, but the point of life isn’t leaving it, it is writing this book that I read daily, and you have been written in it, Mordred, he has been in it. Each of you are part of it. Even if your soul is as filthy as mine is, you are part of my story that keeps me walking the quiet path through the prickly pear cactus and scrub trees that make up my soul.
Keep writing and I will keep transposing your story into mine.
Wow Haze,
That is quite the reply, I’ll attempt to fully honor it and do it justice.
I feel as though I know where you’re coming from (I won’t say I do, but it feels as such). I found that in laughing at my past it made it so much easier for me to accept it and move forward from it. Laughing in the face of so much pain and anguish, made me realize I didn’t/don’t have to carry it around all the time. It was Ok to let go.
Fo me, it’s the noise. For a moment, imagine that sound could be portrayed in color. Some sound produces beautiful, vibrant, exotic hues, others produce muted more subtle shades, and depending on how they are mixed, they can create incredible master pieces, or horrible sludge filled messes. The latter is what drives me to want to jump. When the noise gets overwhelming, the voices, the cars, the sounds of a racing, grinding industrial society, they all muddy the waters, yelling over each-other. An then there is Silence. Sweet, Terrifying Silence, where I find my clarity. Silence in color is blackness, it’s the void, its the absence of cares, concerns and worries. Pain, pleasure, and desire are all meaningless. It’s just Nothing! It’s the perfect backdrop for me to see and hear my deepest internal compass against. For me to hear that voice that soothes and talks me back from the rail, that convinces me to continue breathing. Sometimes I hate that voice. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
Oh Intimacy. I don’t know if I identify with it as a dirty word. For me, it is Terrifying. The kind of terror that when you face it, leaves you helpless and transfixed accompanied by a wretched clawing in your stomach to run, hide and get as far away from it as possible. It’s like freezing in front an oncoming train or a charging bear.
Intimacy and vulnerability do not make you a victim. They are a part of natural human connection (If you have 20 min to give to understanding yourself –> https://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability?language=en) .
However due to abuse, neglect and the other terrible thing visited upon you by unworthy people, you get put into a state of crippled shielding of those soft, tender and healing emotions. Just as when you hurt your arm or leg you begin to protect it until it is healed, we do the same with our emotions. The problem is we get stuck in these patterns of protection, even when none is needed, and we get caught in a cycle of compensation, and it usually takes professional help to begin untangling and breaking these old patterns.
I know exactly the thrill you are speaking of, call it walking the razors edge, to come to the cliff and be ready to let go and fall. I must say, I’m quite glad you took his hand, that you took those intimate chances. You shared a vital, critical part of yourself. You faced the void and you found something worth stepping back for – you.
Let me Say. Pain is not Filth. Neither is shame, guilt or fear. You might see filth, I hear hurt and longing, a desire to be understood. It, You, don’t have to be perfect. The beautiful part of filth, is that it can be washed, you just need to give yourself, time, forgiveness, compassion and understanding. Bathe in the stream of self love and compassion, and you will never be dirty again.
From the Depths of me Haze,
I’m truly honored to be included within your story.
I do so hope that it comes to an exhilarating and happy ending.
May you find purpose and meaning, to get through your pain,
May you find the inner strength, joy and healing to remain,
May you find the courage, laughter and insight, to stay sane ;D
May Peace and Harmony be your constant Companions you as you walk.
-Zen
@zen: It’s the noise for me too. Thank you for your heart felt reply. It just seems to be one of those days for me.
@Zen: I watched the TedTalk. I’m still processing, most likely will be processing on that for a couple days. Thank you.
@Haze: You’re quite welcome. I do so hope you mean “one of those good days, where you roll over and have a rainbow shooting out of somethin” lol Again your welcome, I remember the impact that video had on me, and thought it might help a little. Keep Shinin, Keep following the sun Haze =)
-Zen