Unavoidably, being responsible for stuff comes back, and a near enthusiastic engagement with my experiences.
I’m so over it though. Maybe that means doing these things “ironically”, all the while in the back of my mind, my bags are packed, fuck this place, fuck these people, and none of this will ever really matter.
My only true love is the void, dancing with it fascinates me. It’s the only thing that makes me feel like it is worth going on.
Today someone said to me “fuck death” and I thought about the game fuck marry kill, and I’d marry death, there are way sexier things out there, but death conquers all, and involves dancing with the infinite and nothingness at the same time. Nothing is exciting like the concept of nothingness and everythingness all wrapped up in one door you really shouldn’t go through.
Which is why I think I’m alive, I’m not ready for the dance to end, I’m not ready to read the end of this really wild book that is my life. Maybe someday, I sure hope so. It’s the last mystery box, no spoilers for this one, and I want to leave this world like I came in; kicking, screaming and being inconvenient to everyone in the immediate vicinity
I think parts of me are already dead, and I think being already dead is a pretty good strategy. It might be the depression talking, or it might be that hope is the most toxic thing of all when it is rooted in something you can’t have.
We’re all going to die, eventually. It’s very much something we not only can have, but that we can’t avoid. Meanwhile, I see people that still think life has meaning, it’s really fun slowly pulling their world apart, killing bits of them off like bits have been killed off of me. Not literally of course, but philosophically, and completely.
I don’t want to kill my enemies, that’s far too kind. I want to make them hurt so bad that they beg for death, either that or surrender to what is left of my will. Humans are stubborn beasts, I think it’s going to be awhile before they choose their exit door.
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“I’m so over it though. Maybe that means doing these things “ironically”, all the while in the back of my mind, my bags are packed, fuck this place, fuck these people, and none of this will ever really matter.”
This is the third time I’ve heard that narrative this week. Anyway the first time it was positive. A kid said she didn’t take anything seriously because she wanted her life to be like the movies. The second time it was somewhat positive. My friend said “she had never really cared much for anything”. Never put up posters in her room. Never got her license. Didn’t sell her soul for bosses. Well both got me thinking. Buddhism says desire is the cause of suffering. While that isn’t strictly true, it seems to be the underlying object of this narrative. To lack in desire and avert suffering. But I doubt it works. If you desire nothing, you have no reason to get out of bed. It’s just depression repurposed. Don’t fall for it. Living is wasted if it’s in meekness.