and now it’s happening in mine.
I’m done. I’ve slowly been moving from sadness, loneliness, despair to feeling nothing. I feel emptier as each day passes. I will dangle lifelessly soon enough. This joke isn’t funny more.
This is the way things are. Things could only be this way. This way, no other way.
That’s the truth of it. We’re not really in control. Even the decision to commit suicide isn’t really ours. The past built its way to this. All has been determined.
“The obsession with suicide is characteristic of the man who can neither live nor die, and whose attention never swerves from this double impossibility.” – Emile M. Cioran
Consciousness, the cruel joke played on us all by the universe. When I catch my reflection all I see is a talking ape that knows of its mortality and the meaningless of being. Death is the punch line and often I feel the joke is dragging on and leaving me wishing to just get there already.
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