Who wants to live forever?
"I could see her getting shot randomly by some crazy papa*moon gangsters or something."
"Nah. Sarah's going to kill herself, that's how she's gonna go. Kill herself before anyone else has the chance to."
What does it mean, to have the ability. To have all the power and the ultimate sense of free will;
to destroy,
ones self.
Is it better to not only let your mind go to waste, but to deliberately harm it, on a daily basis.
Not just letting your mind go to waste, but forcing it. One by one, the cells pop as you inhale or snort or inject or whatever the fuck people do nowadays to 'get away' from thier pain.
Then eventually when you realize that all the drugs in the world wont save you from yourself, and the pain grows, you're left with an empty shell filled with a collection of fine emotions such as loneliness, frustration, hate, sadness..
In other words: Grief.
Then, back to the inhaling and snorting and injecting..and, a release. A numbness not felt anywhere else in any way possible ever.
But I guess I just don't seem to understand. That is something I could never do. Yes, I've certainly had my time in a drug-filled haze, but all I ever felt was an even deeper hatred for myself that greatly surpassed any feeling of self-worthiness I had had sober.
Yet I was still always a fiend. I always fiended for that feeling of self-loathing again and again and again and again.
And, I wonder why the hell I would do such a thing?
Who built this creature, who shoots bullets through happiness..puncturing tiny holes that just keep expanding and expanding until there's eventually nothing left. To never feel a release even when you're killing yourself, slowly.
Who built this machine, with it's inhabitants that crawl on it like fucking scum..each beautiful in thier own rights, and devastatingly charismatic..a tool in which they use to lie to one another..massively self-destructive.
Whoever it was, did a poor job in designing. To allow coping mechanisms to fail. To use a scary story of being tortured and burning in a giant pit in the earth over and over and over again for the rest of eternity. Thus leaving people who believe in it trapt, and people who don't, dead.
So, where does that leave me. Where does that leave you?
Free will.
So tell me. What is the the difference between blowing your brains out with coke or a 9 millimeter?
Somewhere an inner voice of reason is telling me that the point of living life is actually LIVING it.
But what do you do when your brain, an organ thats planted right inside of you, put there by a mysterious architect, gives you reason to doubt.
Who wants to live a life where all you're doing is spending your time thinking about when It's finally going to be over.
I suppose we all should. After all, we're all going to die eventually..what's the rush?
Pain.
And yet, Pain also keeps us going. Pain lets us know we're alive..and pain lets us love.
Love, and grow, and learn, and play, and be free and happy and frollick in the daisys in the summertime ect. ect.
All the bullshit happy things you can only achieve if your mind is 'wired' the right way and it allows you to have such positive outlooks on things and life in general.
I feel like I'm trying so hard, but a little demon in my mind is corrupting every thought and feeling I have..forcing it back into a negative and dark headspace.
Then that makes me wonder how other people can even control thier own minds. I'm fairly sure I'm not like bipolar or psychotic..
But It makes me question everything that I once thought I might have beleived in.
I don't know what I'm doign here, and I'm obviously going nowhere fast.
But I don't really know if anyone else is either, even if they look like they are. Some people seem to like the pain..
I don't see how fair a world is where a junkie can do drugs and destroy themseleves slowly, letting go of all that loneliness, frustration, hate, and sadness..
but yet I have the automatic ability to hate myself when I'm sober AND when I'm fucked up.
Yes, brain..mystery architect...whoever I should be speaking to about this..I know I'm alive. I feel the pain.
Now how about that love you promised us?
We all make our own choices? Bullshit. There's a fucking nerve steering my entire life like a bloody freight train driving recklessly through completely uncharted territory. It's final mission: to crash and burn.
How is THAT free will.
"Nah. Sarah's going to kill herself, that's how she's gonna go. Kill herself before anyone else has the chance to."
What does it mean, to have the ability. To have all the power and the ultimate sense of free will;
to destroy,
ones self.
Is it better to not only let your mind go to waste, but to deliberately harm it, on a daily basis.
Not just letting your mind go to waste, but forcing it. One by one, the cells pop as you inhale or snort or inject or whatever the fuck people do nowadays to 'get away' from thier pain.
Then eventually when you realize that all the drugs in the world wont save you from yourself, and the pain grows, you're left with an empty shell filled with a collection of fine emotions such as loneliness, frustration, hate, sadness..
In other words: Grief.
Then, back to the inhaling and snorting and injecting..and, a release. A numbness not felt anywhere else in any way possible ever.
But I guess I just don't seem to understand. That is something I could never do. Yes, I've certainly had my time in a drug-filled haze, but all I ever felt was an even deeper hatred for myself that greatly surpassed any feeling of self-worthiness I had had sober.
Yet I was still always a fiend. I always fiended for that feeling of self-loathing again and again and again and again.
And, I wonder why the hell I would do such a thing?
Who built this creature, who shoots bullets through happiness..puncturing tiny holes that just keep expanding and expanding until there's eventually nothing left. To never feel a release even when you're killing yourself, slowly.
Who built this machine, with it's inhabitants that crawl on it like fucking scum..each beautiful in thier own rights, and devastatingly charismatic..a tool in which they use to lie to one another..massively self-destructive.
Whoever it was, did a poor job in designing. To allow coping mechanisms to fail. To use a scary story of being tortured and burning in a giant pit in the earth over and over and over again for the rest of eternity. Thus leaving people who believe in it trapt, and people who don't, dead.
So, where does that leave me. Where does that leave you?
Free will.
So tell me. What is the the difference between blowing your brains out with coke or a 9 millimeter?
Somewhere an inner voice of reason is telling me that the point of living life is actually LIVING it.
But what do you do when your brain, an organ thats planted right inside of you, put there by a mysterious architect, gives you reason to doubt.
Who wants to live a life where all you're doing is spending your time thinking about when It's finally going to be over.
I suppose we all should. After all, we're all going to die eventually..what's the rush?
Pain.
And yet, Pain also keeps us going. Pain lets us know we're alive..and pain lets us love.
Love, and grow, and learn, and play, and be free and happy and frollick in the daisys in the summertime ect. ect.
All the bullshit happy things you can only achieve if your mind is 'wired' the right way and it allows you to have such positive outlooks on things and life in general.
I feel like I'm trying so hard, but a little demon in my mind is corrupting every thought and feeling I have..forcing it back into a negative and dark headspace.
Then that makes me wonder how other people can even control thier own minds. I'm fairly sure I'm not like bipolar or psychotic..
But It makes me question everything that I once thought I might have beleived in.
I don't know what I'm doign here, and I'm obviously going nowhere fast.
But I don't really know if anyone else is either, even if they look like they are. Some people seem to like the pain..
I don't see how fair a world is where a junkie can do drugs and destroy themseleves slowly, letting go of all that loneliness, frustration, hate, and sadness..
but yet I have the automatic ability to hate myself when I'm sober AND when I'm fucked up.
Yes, brain..mystery architect...whoever I should be speaking to about this..I know I'm alive. I feel the pain.
Now how about that love you promised us?
We all make our own choices? Bullshit. There's a fucking nerve steering my entire life like a bloody freight train driving recklessly through completely uncharted territory. It's final mission: to crash and burn.
How is THAT free will.