The underlying mood and energy are better.
Now what I am struggling with are the thoughts. I think I should have some dreams or goals that I feel passionate about,
but anything I think of seems meaningless and pointless. Life is kind of like a loveless marriage.
My son was listening to a speech about people dying all over the world. I said well 100% of people die.
The problem isn't that they die, it's why they die. He told me the day before that he thought that if no one was afraid
to die the world would be a better place, somehow he thought being afraid to die was weakening people.
I think myself that living frozen like I am is worse from an individual perspective. In the medium picture, it is not better.
While people feel death is the worst thing that can happen, suicide is one of the most abusive thing you can do to people
around you. In the big picture whatever happens that people have to live through, is nothing,
especially once mankind is extinct and can't think about it any more. So really it doesn't make sense that we waste
our time thinking, doing, living, loving, breathing, they are nothing more than the pretty dramas of poets.
I look at people right now, and I don't feel a part of any of it. I feel like a fly on the wall.
Why should I care to exist, invest my passions into something that neither I nor the universe will recall?
This is anger that I feel, and I know that the only one that is affected by it is me. Still, you can't live in the moment.
The moment is always past or future. There is no now, you can't measure "now." It is a point on a line with no room for a
whole human being. There is no time in the moment to even feel it, let alone to think about and value it.
I feel intangible, invisible. But I feel something else that if I try to hold anything in my hands it turns to ash.
I have no faith, no hope, in fact to try to feel there is some positive outcome to living seems like I'm trying to
make up a pretty story so I can go numb, instead of feeling this raw meaninglessness. Yet, I want to feel it until it
is done. I want to see what happens if you shake your fist at it forever. I don't want to give in to it, and believe or invent
stories; over time believe the stories, and preach the stories, love and hate for the stories I tell, or the voices of mankind tell.
Still there is something I get out of my resistance to accepting that stories are all we know how to do, and tell them as
long as I breath. Whatever it is that I get from it feels disturbed, unsettled, but it feels like I am saying "That all I know,
is nothing, but at least it seems more true than stories." Yet it is really another story, in which I am a prisoner of ignorance,
circling the great abyss. I see in my minds eye, a dragon snapping and roaring circling the pit trying to snatch me and drag me down.
I stand here thinking, didn't I already take this leap? how is it that I am still here, my feet grown into the earth hanging half-way between
fantasy and chaos? I thought I had already fallen, but here I stand clinging to the world. Why can't I let go and just fall?
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You sound like me, a recent note to my therapist-
The underlying mood and energy are better.
Now what I am struggling with are the thoughts. I think I should have some dreams or goals that I feel passionate about,
but anything I think of seems meaningless and pointless. Life is kind of like a loveless marriage.
My son was listening to a speech about people dying all over the world. I said well 100% of people die.
The problem isn't that they die, it's why they die. He told me the day before that he thought that if no one was afraid
to die the world would be a better place, somehow he thought being afraid to die was weakening people.
I think myself that living frozen like I am is worse from an individual perspective. In the medium picture, it is not better.
While people feel death is the worst thing that can happen, suicide is one of the most abusive thing you can do to people
around you. In the big picture whatever happens that people have to live through, is nothing,
especially once mankind is extinct and can't think about it any more. So really it doesn't make sense that we waste
our time thinking, doing, living, loving, breathing, they are nothing more than the pretty dramas of poets.
I look at people right now, and I don't feel a part of any of it. I feel like a fly on the wall.
Why should I care to exist, invest my passions into something that neither I nor the universe will recall?
This is anger that I feel, and I know that the only one that is affected by it is me. Still, you can't live in the moment.
The moment is always past or future. There is no now, you can't measure "now." It is a point on a line with no room for a
whole human being. There is no time in the moment to even feel it, let alone to think about and value it.
I feel intangible, invisible. But I feel something else that if I try to hold anything in my hands it turns to ash.
I have no faith, no hope, in fact to try to feel there is some positive outcome to living seems like I'm trying to
make up a pretty story so I can go numb, instead of feeling this raw meaninglessness. Yet, I want to feel it until it
is done. I want to see what happens if you shake your fist at it forever. I don't want to give in to it, and believe or invent
stories; over time believe the stories, and preach the stories, love and hate for the stories I tell, or the voices of mankind tell.
Still there is something I get out of my resistance to accepting that stories are all we know how to do, and tell them as
July 24, 2010 - 10:29pmlong as I breath. Whatever it is that I get from it feels disturbed, unsettled, but it feels like I am saying "That all I know,
is nothing, but at least it seems more true than stories." Yet it is really another story, in which I am a prisoner of ignorance,
circling the great abyss. I see in my minds eye, a dragon snapping and roaring circling the pit trying to snatch me and drag me down.
I stand here thinking, didn't I already take this leap? how is it that I am still here, my feet grown into the earth hanging half-way between
fantasy and chaos? I thought I had already fallen, but here I stand clinging to the world. Why can't I let go and just fall?
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