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And Ritalin and Melatonin are at war in my body. As I thought about taking a hammer to my skin like rubber hands and breaking through drywall.
Out of the ways I thought about killing myself I never really considered how I would kill my self. Because despite it all I still view the self as a largely singular construct, and suicide a total annihilation of the senses, a detachment from the world--although it is hard to believe that all that potential energy pooling inside of me disappears into a thin whirling point vanishingly out of existence the moment my consciousness no longer tethers it to physicality. But there is no proof on the other hand. So that's what I'll believe. It's probably better that way, anyway, for every person to have some attachment to the shape their life takes in that current reincarnation, whether or not reincarnation is real. So that there is hesitation at the barrel of the gun, soles of sneakers sliding against chain-link barricades, heels of palms pressing down only half-way on child-safe caps. And those few slippery seconds that extend into however much longer of one's life.
Nevertheless suicide for me isn't really something I entertain, seriously, like plan out, pick a date, concretely. I fantasize about it in a way I can only really liken to the way I fantasize about sex. That is to say that it only exists in the context of other people's reactions to it. When I've had a rough day or week, and my body is rioting against me, rehashing all the violence I have wrung through it, it comforts me because I know that there is a way out that is not through. Even if I don't think I want to take it. I heard if you want to kill yourself, you'd better do it naked. Die without shame. Again: suicide is so like sex.
I haven't engaged with much media that is centrally regarding the idea of a split consciousness, and not in a M. Night kind of way, but that when I imagine escaping from my body, what do I really mean by that? Take The Substance, take SOMA. Exact double. Or even if I exorcised everything undesirable. Where would that leave me, which one would I be, what would I do to myself?
I am afraid of myself and the ways I betray myself. I am afraid because as I move through the world I can't tell which decisions are active and which are passive, which are submissive and which are certain, which are right and which are wrong. Can I impart morality this way? Step across myself in gray-scale mirror?
I am myself in myself : to carve : to embody. Perhaps I am a natural voyeur. But it remains that I desperately want to be seen.
Maybe this is the way to be alive, meanwhile.
Out of the ways I thought about killing myself I never really considered how I would kill my self. Because despite it all I still view the self as a largely singular construct, and suicide a total annihilation of the senses, a detachment from the world--although it is hard to believe that all that potential energy pooling inside of me disappears into a thin whirling point vanishingly out of existence the moment my consciousness no longer tethers it to physicality. But there is no proof on the other hand. So that's what I'll believe. It's probably better that way, anyway, for every person to have some attachment to the shape their life takes in that current reincarnation, whether or not reincarnation is real. So that there is hesitation at the barrel of the gun, soles of sneakers sliding against chain-link barricades, heels of palms pressing down only half-way on child-safe caps. And those few slippery seconds that extend into however much longer of one's life.
Nevertheless suicide for me isn't really something I entertain, seriously, like plan out, pick a date, concretely. I fantasize about it in a way I can only really liken to the way I fantasize about sex. That is to say that it only exists in the context of other people's reactions to it. When I've had a rough day or week, and my body is rioting against me, rehashing all the violence I have wrung through it, it comforts me because I know that there is a way out that is not through. Even if I don't think I want to take it. I heard if you want to kill yourself, you'd better do it naked. Die without shame. Again: suicide is so like sex.
I haven't engaged with much media that is centrally regarding the idea of a split consciousness, and not in a M. Night kind of way, but that when I imagine escaping from my body, what do I really mean by that? Take The Substance, take SOMA. Exact double. Or even if I exorcised everything undesirable. Where would that leave me, which one would I be, what would I do to myself?
I am afraid of myself and the ways I betray myself. I am afraid because as I move through the world I can't tell which decisions are active and which are passive, which are submissive and which are certain, which are right and which are wrong. Can I impart morality this way? Step across myself in gray-scale mirror?
I am myself in myself : to carve : to embody. Perhaps I am a natural voyeur. But it remains that I desperately want to be seen.
Maybe this is the way to be alive, meanwhile.
