I want so many different, conflicting things. Delusional things. Terrible things.
Rationally, I know they will not make me happy. But that doesn’t change anything. Because I don’t believe anything could make me happy.
So my mind is consumed by one fantastical obsession, then the next, and on. Always attempting to escape from the awful reality
I try so hard to maintain some kind of internal coherency, some sort of balance. But the truth is there is no ‘objective me’, detached from all the delusion. I am the most disgusting sociopath you can imagine, and also the most innocent idealist, all within the same head.
My reasons for not killing myself are emotional. My reasons for wanting to end myself are also emotional.
I can’t be otherwise. I have no ‘self-control’. There’s no ‘self’ to control. Just these whirling, raging, maddening emotions, like cats fighting in a sack. What will I do next? Which will win out, from moment to moment? I can predict, based on past behavior. Probably I won’t start randomly attacking people in the street. Probably I won’t suddenly become super-functional and get a high-powered job. Probably I will continue on deteriorating, as my emotions tear me apart.
I can predict, but I cannot control. And yet I must also maintain the delusion that I can somehow regulate this churning sea.