Confession
A while ago I made what they call a suicide attempt though for me it was merely a desperate need for oblivion. Not to be dead just not to be feeling anymore. It kind of pissed me off that they would call it a suicide attempt. An insult to my intelligence, as if I didn't know how to kill myself properly if I really wanted too. You must excuse any errors in my grammar or spelling, but it's friday night and my only company is a bottle of vodka and some sleeping pills to ensure that I sleep and escape for a while.
I don't come here asking sympathy. I don't come here with empty threats. I come here because I see the world and life for what it really is, and I think maybe you some of you do too.
I am sure many of you are familiar with Tolstoys book 'confession'. How there are all different types of people in the world who live life in
ignorance and denial becuase if they saw the truth of things they would know how futile life is. I was reading an article in 'mind' magazine and it spoke of how self deceit is a neccesary tool for survival. We have to lie to ourselves to live. We have to pretend that life has meaning, that there is some higher purpose, that we exist for a reason. But in truth. We live and we die and we will be forgotten. One day millions of years from now the earth will cease to be and nothing we said or did will be rememebered. We won't be remembered. It will be just as if we had never lived. Ultimately the grand sum of our lives is nothing. Nothing.
And I sit here on a friday evening. Feeling all this sadness and pain.
There are friends to call, and people I can go see, but theres no point
because nothing can take away how alone I feel. How lost I feel. I don't
know why I am still here, all I know is that I still am. I don't want to be.
I have searched long and hard for reasons to stay. I have read countless books on spirituallity, religion, philosophy, trying to find something, some purpose or reason that someone has overlooked somewhere, but I can't find
it. I kept hoping.
Hope is a tortuous thing. Keeping me here. Keeping me waiting. Always
waiting. Waiting for some sign some reason not to go. Hope keeps me here,
but I am sick of waiting.
I don't know if my incoherent rambles will make any sense to you all. I
don't know if I will even post again. I'm just sick of feeling and knowing
what I know and having no one else understand, or even want to understand.
Just so tired of being alone with how I think, how I see things, and how I
feel.
I don't come here asking sympathy. I don't come here with empty threats. I come here because I see the world and life for what it really is, and I think maybe you some of you do too.
I am sure many of you are familiar with Tolstoys book 'confession'. How there are all different types of people in the world who live life in
ignorance and denial becuase if they saw the truth of things they would know how futile life is. I was reading an article in 'mind' magazine and it spoke of how self deceit is a neccesary tool for survival. We have to lie to ourselves to live. We have to pretend that life has meaning, that there is some higher purpose, that we exist for a reason. But in truth. We live and we die and we will be forgotten. One day millions of years from now the earth will cease to be and nothing we said or did will be rememebered. We won't be remembered. It will be just as if we had never lived. Ultimately the grand sum of our lives is nothing. Nothing.
And I sit here on a friday evening. Feeling all this sadness and pain.
There are friends to call, and people I can go see, but theres no point
because nothing can take away how alone I feel. How lost I feel. I don't
know why I am still here, all I know is that I still am. I don't want to be.
I have searched long and hard for reasons to stay. I have read countless books on spirituallity, religion, philosophy, trying to find something, some purpose or reason that someone has overlooked somewhere, but I can't find
it. I kept hoping.
Hope is a tortuous thing. Keeping me here. Keeping me waiting. Always
waiting. Waiting for some sign some reason not to go. Hope keeps me here,
but I am sick of waiting.
I don't know if my incoherent rambles will make any sense to you all. I
don't know if I will even post again. I'm just sick of feeling and knowing
what I know and having no one else understand, or even want to understand.
Just so tired of being alone with how I think, how I see things, and how I
feel.
