Solodemic
I'm taking off work early to meet a friend who will be staying with us this weekend. Said friend may be a girlfriend, I'm honestly not sure. She and Beth will discuss that tonight, potentially while she goes with Beth to a friend's funeral.
It is surprising to me how this gentleman had so many friends, and took his life. I suppose I can actually understand. But it's astounded how many people I know, who knew him. People outside the Triangle, outside of North Carolina.
I'm not going. Mostly because of my very soured relationship with his sister. I will fully accept that my grudge is a bit excessive, but it is still a deeply personal thing to me that I don't take lightly. Just I don't take pledges of love and friendship lightly, I don't take slights like that lightly. Many people might advocate for forgiveness but I feel that the inability to hold a grudge is a sign of poor character.
That isn't the only reason I'm not going. I don't care for funerals, or observances, or any of the trappings of death. Death, in many times, is to be celebrated. If there is an afterlife, then this person has gone to it. If there isn't an afterlife, then marking the passing of a life, reminding ourselves of our own mortality seems futile.
The other reason, of course, is probably the scariest: I envy him. He did it. He died. While I'm not suicidal, don't want to be suicidal (again), and have no plans to take my life, I cannot help but admire those who do. It's a sick admiration, like admiring those who endure pain, who forego treatment, etc. It's not right. It's downright sick, but it is true.
I live predominantly for my work. Whether it's writing or an obligation to my family, most of what keeps me rooted is my to-do list. There will never be a single day I wake up where I won't have an obligation, a single thing to do, a fight that must be waged. Death, to me, will be a release from that and it's something that I look forward to. I love life, I love living, and I'm very happy. While I am in no hurry to die, I look forward to death.
Tomorrow is Refeed Day. I'm looking forward to the carbs and the sugar. I think I could use the high.
It is surprising to me how this gentleman had so many friends, and took his life. I suppose I can actually understand. But it's astounded how many people I know, who knew him. People outside the Triangle, outside of North Carolina.
I'm not going. Mostly because of my very soured relationship with his sister. I will fully accept that my grudge is a bit excessive, but it is still a deeply personal thing to me that I don't take lightly. Just I don't take pledges of love and friendship lightly, I don't take slights like that lightly. Many people might advocate for forgiveness but I feel that the inability to hold a grudge is a sign of poor character.
That isn't the only reason I'm not going. I don't care for funerals, or observances, or any of the trappings of death. Death, in many times, is to be celebrated. If there is an afterlife, then this person has gone to it. If there isn't an afterlife, then marking the passing of a life, reminding ourselves of our own mortality seems futile.
The other reason, of course, is probably the scariest: I envy him. He did it. He died. While I'm not suicidal, don't want to be suicidal (again), and have no plans to take my life, I cannot help but admire those who do. It's a sick admiration, like admiring those who endure pain, who forego treatment, etc. It's not right. It's downright sick, but it is true.
I live predominantly for my work. Whether it's writing or an obligation to my family, most of what keeps me rooted is my to-do list. There will never be a single day I wake up where I won't have an obligation, a single thing to do, a fight that must be waged. Death, to me, will be a release from that and it's something that I look forward to. I love life, I love living, and I'm very happy. While I am in no hurry to die, I look forward to death.
Tomorrow is Refeed Day. I'm looking forward to the carbs and the sugar. I think I could use the high.