A moment of reflection after watching the film, Sweeney Todd: Demon Barber of Fleet Street. (Care to make a connection?)
Let me tell you something I'm quite sure of and never afraid to speak about.
Suicidal people are proud.
Gone mad with delusional grandeur yet too coward to admit their weaknesses; opted for, but not really wanting to commit self-murder.
People who sought escape. Escape from their minds gone out of control.
Real cowards but not weak enough to think about death, of facing death.
They think too much, often get confused, and end up messing their life.
Or was it just with me?
Suicidal people are pensive.
They've claimed to learn about the twisted way of life. They cannot succumb to the reality knowing that they cannot face their real enemy. How could one fight his own demon? How could he fight with his own self, his real enemy? His mind is betraying him. He's under control but not on his free will. His mind is dictating him. His mind is telling him he's gone mad because he thinks he's separate from his own mind, that he's not in control of his own mind, rather, it's the other way around.
Or was it just me?
Think..think..think... Neverending thinking...
All I really wish right now is to spend a day without thinking. To tune out (of life) even for just a day. Just one day is all I ask. But I know it's impossible. It's either I think ceaselessly or I stop thinking altogether.
The latter is unnecessary but certainly is not a bad choice.
I could think about killing myself because I am thinking. But actually, it's the trouble that I couldn't stop from thinking that makes me want to end the agonizing feeling (and stop thinking!). Maybe this kind of feeling is what Jean Paul Sartre has described in "No Exit" as the hell itself. Perhaps, mental torture is what hell is really all about (and not the place you end up in when you die if you've been bad when you're still alive).
I could decide to end my life in my own convenience... maybe at this very moment... maybe tonight... but certainly not never. You see, suicidal people are selfish. They don't give a damn on what others would think about them when they die. All they really care about is themselves. They wouldn't commit suicide just because somebody had hurt them, but because they've been hurt. The others are insignificant enough not to be the bane of their existence. Nothing matters except for what is happening in their lives. They are self-centered. The world is about nothing but their own life. If something goes wrong in their life, the whole world is shaken and when it's shaken, it means its unstable and because it's unstable, it isn't perfect anymore. They are therefore bound to destroy it as soon as possible before they end up clinging on to the others boxed as weaklings.
But my middle name is Coward so I could not initiate the act.... I could just think about it, see myself in my mind --- picturing a cold corpse, dried blood in my hands, silver blade still sticking on my chest, and flies...so many flies swarming on me. feasting with rot ---
Because at the end of it all, I still wanted to graduate. Reach the finish line just like everybody, no matter how pointless it may seem to me now. It's pathetic, I know, but that's how life is supposed to be. Supposed to be.
That's how hope imprints shit inside you. We're all doomed to hope.
(signed)
Viola Flies
Born achiever. Died a mediocre.
Let me tell you something I'm quite sure of and never afraid to speak about.
Suicidal people are proud.
Gone mad with delusional grandeur yet too coward to admit their weaknesses; opted for, but not really wanting to commit self-murder.
People who sought escape. Escape from their minds gone out of control.
Real cowards but not weak enough to think about death, of facing death.
They think too much, often get confused, and end up messing their life.
Or was it just with me?
Suicidal people are pensive.
They've claimed to learn about the twisted way of life. They cannot succumb to the reality knowing that they cannot face their real enemy. How could one fight his own demon? How could he fight with his own self, his real enemy? His mind is betraying him. He's under control but not on his free will. His mind is dictating him. His mind is telling him he's gone mad because he thinks he's separate from his own mind, that he's not in control of his own mind, rather, it's the other way around.
Or was it just me?
Think..think..think... Neverending thinking...
All I really wish right now is to spend a day without thinking. To tune out (of life) even for just a day. Just one day is all I ask. But I know it's impossible. It's either I think ceaselessly or I stop thinking altogether.
The latter is unnecessary but certainly is not a bad choice.
I could think about killing myself because I am thinking. But actually, it's the trouble that I couldn't stop from thinking that makes me want to end the agonizing feeling (and stop thinking!). Maybe this kind of feeling is what Jean Paul Sartre has described in "No Exit" as the hell itself. Perhaps, mental torture is what hell is really all about (and not the place you end up in when you die if you've been bad when you're still alive).
I could decide to end my life in my own convenience... maybe at this very moment... maybe tonight... but certainly not never. You see, suicidal people are selfish. They don't give a damn on what others would think about them when they die. All they really care about is themselves. They wouldn't commit suicide just because somebody had hurt them, but because they've been hurt. The others are insignificant enough not to be the bane of their existence. Nothing matters except for what is happening in their lives. They are self-centered. The world is about nothing but their own life. If something goes wrong in their life, the whole world is shaken and when it's shaken, it means its unstable and because it's unstable, it isn't perfect anymore. They are therefore bound to destroy it as soon as possible before they end up clinging on to the others boxed as weaklings.
But my middle name is Coward so I could not initiate the act.... I could just think about it, see myself in my mind --- picturing a cold corpse, dried blood in my hands, silver blade still sticking on my chest, and flies...so many flies swarming on me. feasting with rot ---
Because at the end of it all, I still wanted to graduate. Reach the finish line just like everybody, no matter how pointless it may seem to me now. It's pathetic, I know, but that's how life is supposed to be. Supposed to be.
That's how hope imprints shit inside you. We're all doomed to hope.
(signed)
Viola Flies
Born achiever. Died a mediocre.
"Kirilov is right. To commit suicide is to prove that one is free. And there is a simple solution to the problem of liberty. Men have the illusion that they are free. But when they are sentenced to death they lose the illusion. The whole problem lies in the reality of illusion." ---Albert Camus (noted on 10/10/06)
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