(no subject)
I'm feeling darker... colder... more free. I'm caring less. My path is becoming more clear. I feel more whole this way. My mortality is mattering less and less. Very little concerns me now. My perspective is become more complete. None of this is new. I'm just better at it all, now.
I slept for two hours in a cold bath with the only light in the room coming from a small window which faced the setting sun. I woke up frigid, sore, and submerged in shadows. None of that mattered. I felt no response and just laid there, uncomfortable in nearly every possible way, and it just didn't matter to me.
If I had any specific belief about a soul, other than the abreviated lesson I got on the Simpsons, I think I'd believe mine to be dying. I have no ambition. Even the desire to continue living seems pale and lacks meaning or merit. Once again, this is not depression. This is nothing. Nothing is consuming me further. I'm slipping quietly into it. I definitely know what depression feels like. This is far more comfortable. I don't hurt. I'm not sad about anything. I'm utterly devoid of any feeling.
I have no desire to go to school, but I'll graduate. I have no desire to be a teacher, but I'll become one. I have no interest in any aspect of life, but I'll continue all of them. My habitual training will resume, and nobody will even be aware that I'm so fundamentally devoid of anything. Even I'll forget it soon enough.
I think I may have found peace... or at least the doorway to it.
There's not even a hole. A hole would be something. There's just nothing.
I slept for two hours in a cold bath with the only light in the room coming from a small window which faced the setting sun. I woke up frigid, sore, and submerged in shadows. None of that mattered. I felt no response and just laid there, uncomfortable in nearly every possible way, and it just didn't matter to me.
If I had any specific belief about a soul, other than the abreviated lesson I got on the Simpsons, I think I'd believe mine to be dying. I have no ambition. Even the desire to continue living seems pale and lacks meaning or merit. Once again, this is not depression. This is nothing. Nothing is consuming me further. I'm slipping quietly into it. I definitely know what depression feels like. This is far more comfortable. I don't hurt. I'm not sad about anything. I'm utterly devoid of any feeling.
I have no desire to go to school, but I'll graduate. I have no desire to be a teacher, but I'll become one. I have no interest in any aspect of life, but I'll continue all of them. My habitual training will resume, and nobody will even be aware that I'm so fundamentally devoid of anything. Even I'll forget it soon enough.
I think I may have found peace... or at least the doorway to it.
There's not even a hole. A hole would be something. There's just nothing.