Reliving: 17/07/97
Jan. 25th, 2001 02:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
overoceaI feel incredibly selfish when I entertain thoughts of suicide, yet I still manage to do just that most of every day, and feeling like a selfish person is growing old. I'm growing old. While I'm 16! I could count all the things that would make my life ten times worse, I could think of all the so many people who do have it ten times worse than I yet who still persevere, yet that serves no purpose but to make me feel awful for feeling how I do. I know it's wrong. Whoever said to tell yourself what you're thinking is wrong, which is what you're doing by comforting yourself with those who suffer pain more intense than yours, was an absolute chook. A bug-like chook.
Besides, it isn't that I feel pain. I most certainly do not. I have nothing to be sad for, I feel loved and cared for, there are people who look after me because I'm too afraid and careless to look after myself, there are people I care about. I still don't think that this could be love though, wouldn't love hold me here? Despite having read so much about it, heard so much about it, talked so much about it, I don't suppose I believe in love at all. Not for me. Whatever magickal, fairy-dust spell that is, it doesn't work on me. I could quite easily cripple those who I'm expected to love. I have asked myself why I should feel this way if I haven't considered doing it, which I have but not seriously enough to be worrisome. People tell me that the fact that I do not want to kill people must mean that I love them, but I don't feel that is why I wouldn't kill someone. I may not care for people, but I don't want to cause people unnecessary agony from which would be impossible to escape. I don't mean for the person I would kill, I mean for the people who love that person. Death only hurts those who it hasn't captured yet.
Which is why I promised myself I would never take my life as long as there were people who cared about me. Which, as I see it now, means I shall never be allowed to die at all. My family is too extensive, too involved, my death would effect far too many people, and I am certain my mother would never recover.
I am certain she never will. And the thought does upset me, because she is a person who has suffered as anyone else has, and I know of the problems she has had and the problems she does have. (An awful thought, but my death would make these problems so insignificant that she wouldn't even think to worry of them anymore!) I'm uncertain as to whether or not I love my mother, as I don't know that I love anyone, but I do know I like her a lot and care about her and what happens.
My life, death, would be so much easier if no one cared for me. That's all I wish, to have no one care for me at all. I'd give anything to swap places with someone who is miserable as a result of not being cared for. I've seen enough weird foreign movies to know these sorts of people are everywhere.
Wanting to be understood is miles and miles below wanting to be forgotten.
I have been feeling unbearable selfish every second of every day for the past few weeks. It has damaged my mind, I can't sleep, can't eat, can't think. I've always thought of death at least once a day, for as long as I can remember, which isn't saying much anyway. Thoughts of my own death though, my own premature death, are far more disturbing. Up until last month I only had those thoughts about once a week. My mind is now constantly full of them, and has been for a while.
Not because I am unhappy, taking one's own life for no reason other than unhappiness is ludicrous and unforgivable. Misery passes. Joy is always possible, and always predictable in anyone's future. No matter what makes your life miserable now, (excluding terminal illnesses.. sigh) it will pass. I know I don't see happiness in my own future at all, but I don't expect any truly sad person does. That doesn't mean it won't happen.
Sadness is not an acceptable reason to commit suicide.
Why would I choose to then? I'm positive sadness is contributing much to the thought, but that isn't the only reason. Fear, helplessness, hopelessness, disbelief, hatred, and emptiness.
Fear, of the world and of it's people. There are many simple things I am scared of, telephone usage a minor one. People in general scare me, conversations are impossible.
Helplessness, I can't help myself and no one else could help me. Because I don't want to be helped, and I'm too lazy to try. I'm too lazy to bother trying to live.
Hopelessness, I hope for nothing, because I don't see my own future. I know it isn't there. I could never exist as other do, despite that I have until now. I have until now because of other people, and now I've become selfish.
Disbelief, in everything. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in the soul. I don't believe in life after death or reincarnation. I don't believe in time. I don't believe in the future or the past. I don't believe in reality. I don't believe in people. I don't believe in myself.
Hatred, of nothing but myself. My insecurities and ugliness, my selfishness, my laziness, my dishonesty, my fears, my thoughts, my dreams, my person. My mind is black.
Emptiness. Nothing could flare in my mind that hasn't brightened it before. My mind is not only black, but is a broken record. It is vacant of all but the most superficial of thoughts, anything else previously sucked dry and filed away in my folder of things in which to disbelieve. I've no wish anymore to be creative or original. I am no longer interested in anything, I no longer like anything, I don't think I am human. What makes something human? Feeling, I think. And I've none.
I'm beginning to think I'm beyond letting a fear of being a cause of pain for others stop me. Or even my own physical pain before death actually snuffed it out, that has been another concern great enough to prevent me
doing this before.
I still worry for those whom this will upset.
But I desire nothing, and nothing only. And I hate this world.
And what's worse, I've nothing beautiful or profound to say.
Besides, it isn't that I feel pain. I most certainly do not. I have nothing to be sad for, I feel loved and cared for, there are people who look after me because I'm too afraid and careless to look after myself, there are people I care about. I still don't think that this could be love though, wouldn't love hold me here? Despite having read so much about it, heard so much about it, talked so much about it, I don't suppose I believe in love at all. Not for me. Whatever magickal, fairy-dust spell that is, it doesn't work on me. I could quite easily cripple those who I'm expected to love. I have asked myself why I should feel this way if I haven't considered doing it, which I have but not seriously enough to be worrisome. People tell me that the fact that I do not want to kill people must mean that I love them, but I don't feel that is why I wouldn't kill someone. I may not care for people, but I don't want to cause people unnecessary agony from which would be impossible to escape. I don't mean for the person I would kill, I mean for the people who love that person. Death only hurts those who it hasn't captured yet.
Which is why I promised myself I would never take my life as long as there were people who cared about me. Which, as I see it now, means I shall never be allowed to die at all. My family is too extensive, too involved, my death would effect far too many people, and I am certain my mother would never recover.
I am certain she never will. And the thought does upset me, because she is a person who has suffered as anyone else has, and I know of the problems she has had and the problems she does have. (An awful thought, but my death would make these problems so insignificant that she wouldn't even think to worry of them anymore!) I'm uncertain as to whether or not I love my mother, as I don't know that I love anyone, but I do know I like her a lot and care about her and what happens.
My life, death, would be so much easier if no one cared for me. That's all I wish, to have no one care for me at all. I'd give anything to swap places with someone who is miserable as a result of not being cared for. I've seen enough weird foreign movies to know these sorts of people are everywhere.
Wanting to be understood is miles and miles below wanting to be forgotten.
I have been feeling unbearable selfish every second of every day for the past few weeks. It has damaged my mind, I can't sleep, can't eat, can't think. I've always thought of death at least once a day, for as long as I can remember, which isn't saying much anyway. Thoughts of my own death though, my own premature death, are far more disturbing. Up until last month I only had those thoughts about once a week. My mind is now constantly full of them, and has been for a while.
Not because I am unhappy, taking one's own life for no reason other than unhappiness is ludicrous and unforgivable. Misery passes. Joy is always possible, and always predictable in anyone's future. No matter what makes your life miserable now, (excluding terminal illnesses.. sigh) it will pass. I know I don't see happiness in my own future at all, but I don't expect any truly sad person does. That doesn't mean it won't happen.
Sadness is not an acceptable reason to commit suicide.
Why would I choose to then? I'm positive sadness is contributing much to the thought, but that isn't the only reason. Fear, helplessness, hopelessness, disbelief, hatred, and emptiness.
Fear, of the world and of it's people. There are many simple things I am scared of, telephone usage a minor one. People in general scare me, conversations are impossible.
Helplessness, I can't help myself and no one else could help me. Because I don't want to be helped, and I'm too lazy to try. I'm too lazy to bother trying to live.
Hopelessness, I hope for nothing, because I don't see my own future. I know it isn't there. I could never exist as other do, despite that I have until now. I have until now because of other people, and now I've become selfish.
Disbelief, in everything. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in the soul. I don't believe in life after death or reincarnation. I don't believe in time. I don't believe in the future or the past. I don't believe in reality. I don't believe in people. I don't believe in myself.
Hatred, of nothing but myself. My insecurities and ugliness, my selfishness, my laziness, my dishonesty, my fears, my thoughts, my dreams, my person. My mind is black.
Emptiness. Nothing could flare in my mind that hasn't brightened it before. My mind is not only black, but is a broken record. It is vacant of all but the most superficial of thoughts, anything else previously sucked dry and filed away in my folder of things in which to disbelieve. I've no wish anymore to be creative or original. I am no longer interested in anything, I no longer like anything, I don't think I am human. What makes something human? Feeling, I think. And I've none.
I'm beginning to think I'm beyond letting a fear of being a cause of pain for others stop me. Or even my own physical pain before death actually snuffed it out, that has been another concern great enough to prevent me
doing this before.
I still worry for those whom this will upset.
But I desire nothing, and nothing only. And I hate this world.
And what's worse, I've nothing beautiful or profound to say.
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no subject
Date: 2001-01-25 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2001-01-30 11:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2001-02-14 05:23 pm (UTC)especially the disbelief of Everything. people do not understand. i don't believe in the past. i don't believe in history despite all that is written in their stupid books that i also do not believe in.
and the part about having nothing profound to say. ditto.
i used to say i have no way i Could do it. but now i know exactly how i would kill my self.
i used to say i will always like to eat. and that has held me through many times. but lately times have found me not even interested in food.
i used to say i would run out and do absolutely absurd things before i would kill my self. like go into bad neighborhoods and walk through town naked. but now times find me with no interest in the absurd or dangerous.
the one thing keeping me going is my own story: every time i feel suicidal, it goes away. no rhyme. no reason, that i can identify. it is there one minutes and gone the next. the ideas behind it are alwayz there. but the impetus changes.
someone said something about chemical imbalances. and i have related some of my mood swings to insulin swings. i think i have less frequent swings if i alwayz balance any form of carbohydrate with fiber and protein. but just like any form of anti-depressant this is not fool proof. and i am the master fool.
another thing that keeps me going is i will focus on something. i can't look for it. it just happens. i'll get totally distracted from my thoughts and later find myself Feeling differently. i still have all the reasons to kill my self. but i'm just not thinking or feeling about those reasons because i'm distracted.
in contrast to you, one thing differs for me, i don't believe anyone cares for me anymore. they don't know me. just as i don't believe in the definition of god. i don't believe in the definition of love.
now there is one more power that i do believe in. and other people call it love.. or romance or soulmates.. or 'best friends' .. things change a great deal in the midst of such a relationship. energies are available that were not even evident before. things might fall into place in ways that are beyond coincidence. a 'soul relationship' is not a reason to live.. and it certainly can't be pursued.. it happens or it does not. but that relationship is all powerful. that is the one thing i believe in. no i do not even believe in myself. i don't exist unless at least one other person relates with me on a Real basis. that is where i Can believe in reality. as it is co-'created' relative to another human. this does NOT mean pining away for 'love'. like i said, no such thing as love. this is just a simple human existence with humane Contact involved. our culture provides the opposite.
so with my basic human need to relate with another obviously Not within un-my un-grasp. what is un-me to un-do?
well. basically i get pretty damn bored and every other way of feeling un-good. and boredom leads to all sortz of shit for brains risks and wastes and cruelties. wtf you expect. i dare anyone to blame me for any idiocy un-imaginable.
nothing/everything
Date: 2001-02-15 10:04 am (UTC).intensely open minds just let everything flow right through
.i know .far tooMuch to be merely apathy.. more transparency
mis-thought = standing still with the world swirling bi.. for who are we to affect?
tsk!
.disbelief is belief : disbelief & not believing are different. congratulations!
reason: important [?] why kill yourself
escape *scorn!
.distraction isn't good enough [but what could be better? sigh]
.can't think of a single absolute[ly] correct definition
ie. definitions don't exist .thus thinking of words/names in terms of definition = thoughtemptying
.you + the hopeless = [in common] believe no one cares.
the hopeless = blind!
can't argue! damn.
.but sure = x .sure you don't exist when there's no chance for it to be proven.
*miles over <-- slap me & ignore this .who am i?
idiocy = x
but if you're not to blame // who is?
;)
no subject
Date: 2001-02-15 10:09 am (UTC)Reliving: 17/07/97
i wrote the above post on
the seventeenth day of july in
1997
& wish i could still write as such...
lucidity seems beyond my grasp.