Imaginos
Full-time layabout
- Apr 7, 2018
- 638
And here I am, on yet another awful night, angrily ruing the fact that I didn't. Instead, I got to live out my thoroughly shitty existence and rot away in my own personal purgatory, while at the same time committing slow suicide with my equally depressed mother in a stagnant atmosphere of pure morbidity. Like a couple of decaying corpses left moldering on the floor in some dark forgotten corner of the world. It's interesting how some people go their whole lives and never once think about suicide, whereas I've spent essentially my whole life wishing myself dead.
Well, at the very least, I can imagine that my life expectancy is significantly shortened due to so many years of having to endure a state of severely chronic depression and near constant suicidal ideation. Some people, such as myself, should never have been here. It's really as simple as that. The fact that I am will never not feel to me like some kind of horrific cosmic mistake, or an otherwise cruel and unusual punishment. In an ideal world, I would've been aborted as a fetus on the grounds of, one day, being a hopelessly defective human being. Failing that, I should've had my head bashed in with a rock as a baby, or gotten chucked into a gorge like in that 300 movie. Failing that, I should've been left to drown in that cold and murky water all those many years ago, which would've been especially easy since I didn't know how to swim, and I still don't, and I probably never will. How fitting, since I'll also never know how to swim through the currents of life either.
And now. Now it's too late. The damage is done, and all that pain I could've been spared has instead been relentlessly rained down upon me and irreparably scarred my soul as a result. If you were about to be brutally tortured, you'd ideally want a merciful death before that brutal torture begins to work its agonizing magic on you. Getting it afterwards doesn't really have anywhere near the same value, but I guess it's better than not getting it at all. We'll see if such a sort of merciful death ever finds me, but it'll probably be of the horrible, painfully drawn out variety because that's about the kind of luck I have, which is to say none at all.
Well, at the very least, I can imagine that my life expectancy is significantly shortened due to so many years of having to endure a state of severely chronic depression and near constant suicidal ideation. Some people, such as myself, should never have been here. It's really as simple as that. The fact that I am will never not feel to me like some kind of horrific cosmic mistake, or an otherwise cruel and unusual punishment. In an ideal world, I would've been aborted as a fetus on the grounds of, one day, being a hopelessly defective human being. Failing that, I should've had my head bashed in with a rock as a baby, or gotten chucked into a gorge like in that 300 movie. Failing that, I should've been left to drown in that cold and murky water all those many years ago, which would've been especially easy since I didn't know how to swim, and I still don't, and I probably never will. How fitting, since I'll also never know how to swim through the currents of life either.
And now. Now it's too late. The damage is done, and all that pain I could've been spared has instead been relentlessly rained down upon me and irreparably scarred my soul as a result. If you were about to be brutally tortured, you'd ideally want a merciful death before that brutal torture begins to work its agonizing magic on you. Getting it afterwards doesn't really have anywhere near the same value, but I guess it's better than not getting it at all. We'll see if such a sort of merciful death ever finds me, but it'll probably be of the horrible, painfully drawn out variety because that's about the kind of luck I have, which is to say none at all.