LavĂnia
plalace
- Feb 19, 2024
- 150
I officially give up. I'm going to shut down any sense of identity, will, or expression that I have, to live only for one goal. I've always had an agony of living, with the constancy, continuity, the pattern that keeps occurring. The same face with different glasses. A summer day that rains, is sunny, or is mild.
I tried rebellion, destroying my body and my health, deteriorating my mind as much as possible. I tried to kill myself 3 times, I admit that I only did impulsively, so I failed stupidly, but I tried. And I also tried to stay, to live on the tightrope of humans. That suspended rope of sanity, walking in routine, in patterns. In the complaints of the day, in the outbursts, in the snapping of fingers, in conversations about money, in numbers, in clients, in analyses, in goals, in ego discussions, in contained and superficial despair, blah, blah, blah. In the days and months that pass without feeling. In the tasteless and addictive food. In the strong coffees without sugar. In strong coffees with 4 spoonfuls of sugar. With cheap chocolates to "reward" something undeserved. In dry jokes, in loud and insensitive laughter.
I give up. I choose mental death. Personal death. The death of the individual. Did some philosopher talk about this, Camus? Philosophical suicide? I give up on myself. I will blind myself, I will look at an object, a goal, time or place as a magic pot of gold, and strive viciously for it. Yes, yes my companions, I will have a dream! What a spectacular, special and simple thing. So honest and human. Human. Human. I will live a dream! I will bathe in effort, goals, care, laughter, study and attention, to seek something. The determination of wanting. Yes. Yes. I gave up.
I tried rebellion, destroying my body and my health, deteriorating my mind as much as possible. I tried to kill myself 3 times, I admit that I only did impulsively, so I failed stupidly, but I tried. And I also tried to stay, to live on the tightrope of humans. That suspended rope of sanity, walking in routine, in patterns. In the complaints of the day, in the outbursts, in the snapping of fingers, in conversations about money, in numbers, in clients, in analyses, in goals, in ego discussions, in contained and superficial despair, blah, blah, blah. In the days and months that pass without feeling. In the tasteless and addictive food. In the strong coffees without sugar. In strong coffees with 4 spoonfuls of sugar. With cheap chocolates to "reward" something undeserved. In dry jokes, in loud and insensitive laughter.
I give up. I choose mental death. Personal death. The death of the individual. Did some philosopher talk about this, Camus? Philosophical suicide? I give up on myself. I will blind myself, I will look at an object, a goal, time or place as a magic pot of gold, and strive viciously for it. Yes, yes my companions, I will have a dream! What a spectacular, special and simple thing. So honest and human. Human. Human. I will live a dream! I will bathe in effort, goals, care, laughter, study and attention, to seek something. The determination of wanting. Yes. Yes. I gave up.
