(no subject)
Everyday I grow up a little bit more, and everyday I realize how much darker the world is. Death is irreversible and incomprehensible, it leaves you with no options, and sometimes is so surprising that you find yourself reaching to help someone who isn't breathing anymore. I feel disgusted with myself for shedding so few tears, yet I wait in fear for the moment that my insensitive bridge can't hold up against the pounding of reality. Guilt plagues my conscience, and I wonder if these are the types of things you can never quite reconcile with.
Goddamn, I grasp life with such ferocity and selfishness. What puts someone to the point of absolute detachment? To the point where the hate of life is greater than the fear of death. I don't understand it, and I hope that I never do. Yet, if only to be able to understand would put me at a place of peace. I hope Ben's at peace. That's the only comfort with suicide, you know they're at peace. I feel like I'm babbling. I wish I could describe the feeling of misery and confusion, even denial, that paces through my blood, if only I could spin words into such descriptive beauty that you would be able to empathize through a computer screen, but I can't.
Goddamn, I grasp life with such ferocity and selfishness. What puts someone to the point of absolute detachment? To the point where the hate of life is greater than the fear of death. I don't understand it, and I hope that I never do. Yet, if only to be able to understand would put me at a place of peace. I hope Ben's at peace. That's the only comfort with suicide, you know they're at peace. I feel like I'm babbling. I wish I could describe the feeling of misery and confusion, even denial, that paces through my blood, if only I could spin words into such descriptive beauty that you would be able to empathize through a computer screen, but I can't.