Good things, Bad things, and the physical plane of reality…

​It really seems like good things, comforting experiences, pleasurable moments, lovely tingliness only exist just enough to get a person through until the next fucked up thing, the next tragedy, the next dilemma, the next life-force sucking leech imbuing emotional malaise. If a person is disconcerted and pained to such an extreme from the previous tragedy, the previous dilemma, the previous predicament that they kill their self, then they simply won’t be around to even exist to tolerate the next fucked up situation. So of course the person needs that little inkling of a good thing to make it long enough to tread through the next shit storm. If this is really the way life is, and not just how it seems to be in my life, I seriously wonder if I would be better off severing my existence from the physical plane of reality. This pattern/cycle of brief intermittent comfort followed by condensed periods of retarded-dipshit idiocy and traumatic, horrifying, discombobulated hardship is going to send this space cadet plummeting off a mother fucking cliff if it doesn’t cease. Good has to be equal to or (preferably) more than the agony and strife for life to truly be worth living.

The suicidal mind is suicidal because the mind is so overburdened, overwhelmed, emotionally & psychologically malnourished, experientially flogged, and humanistically disturbed by life’s chaos, pain, trauma, losses, grief, abuse, disorder, idiocy, frustration, and failure that the mind cannot comprehend management, healing, acceptance, and multitasking to continue determination and incentive enough to keep going. The suicidal mind realizes the only control the mind has in its power is to end its cerebral functioning permanently to prevent further misfortunes from entering into the realm of the mind’s emotional subjective experience. When the heart is content, the mind lets go of suicidal ideas. For one to let go of suicidal ideas and suicidal ways of coping, the heart has to feel comfort worthy enough for the mind to be at ease to let it go. The heart has to feel there is more love, joy, good things and people that make remaining in physical reality worth it. My heart has to experience all the prolonged, painstaking, stagnant issues making progress, forming steam, moving in an upward and forward prosperous direction which reassures permanency, wellbeing, love, nourishment, stability, and success. This can seem very hard, utterly hopeless, near impossible when time demand after energy demand after responsibility after psyche-traumatizing scenario after scenario all condense together into the same old shit day after day after week after week until it’s been years of this experiential madness. 

This is not a solution. This is the bantering rant of a legally crazy creative depressive flickering a dim flame of light which shall be rekindled to brilliance or smothered out for eternity.


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