kyaryftsatan:

Since I’m ranting, I’m going to have my little say about people who don’t think suicide is selfish.

Sure, it’s shit that a person may be driven to point of worthlessness. Sure, it’s shit to accuse someone already so vulnerable with something so hurtful. But why sympathise and enable a victim complex? Is suicide not the easy way out? Who does it hurt more? The person committing suicide or the people around them?

I don’t believe in an afterlife. I don’t even think it’s a void because in order to have a void, there must be something in the presence of it but there isn’t because death is the end of all consciousness. So in mY opinion, the suicidee feels absolutely nothing in escaping reality whilst everyone else is left to grieve. If someone commits suicide because they can’t bear their, say, overwhelming depression, is that not akin to dropping your pen because you can’t be fucked to continue writing an essay? It’s essentially giving up which is ultimately benefitting only you in that you no longer have to try. Statements concluding that healing is an impossible are almost rationalisations masking a will to no longer try.

It’s not impossible to mentally heal. To be fair and not offend anyone, I myself have been considering suicide. Not really but just the ramifications of consequences if I did. I would feel nothing past the pain. Just dead. My family, friends, girlfriend left to weep and grieve for maybe a few years and that’s that. I will kill myself in exchange for release, just so I don’t have to deal with whatever I’m dealing with. But I leave behind a trail of pain of those who really matter – those who can still feel it.

tl;dr fuCK I AM SO FUCKING ANGRY

scarecrowbelle:

And I really, really hate that. I mean, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I may never truly know some things, but it doesn’t stop me from hating that I’m incapable of comprehension, or I’ll never be in possession of all the facts, or a million other little things that will inevitably stand in the way of me and the truth.

I hate making decisions before I know all the facts. I can offer an opinion without all those facts, but it won’t be complete, and I will not like that. I’d rather not offer my opinion at all if it can’t be the answer I want to give. This is the reason why I often sound unsure, and always, always state that ‘I think’ this or something. I rarely use ‘I believe’ because if I do that then it means I have analysed it to the best of my ability, so I prefer to use that only in relation to my own thoughts and not with something that is meant for someone else.

Inevitable quest for knowledge and all that shit. I don’t care, I just want everything to make some god damn sense and that doesn’t always work. And when I can’t understand a person and they know it, that probably feels the worst. In my mind, religion and beliefs and various phenomena are allowed to defy explanation because in due course something might come along to explain it - linked to my idea about not believing in forever, because even if it’s outside of my timeline I am content in the idea that maybe one day somebody will make more sense of such things - but people don’t really count. We’re not going to be around for long, and there is so much to even just one person that I’ll never understand, and sometimes that makes me moody and sometimes it makes me furious and sometimes it probably makes me feel puzzled but slightly relieved.

I just want to understand.

What an inadequate explanation. And you already knew all this, but it feels like it helps for me to put it down. I’ll never stop trying to understand, even if I know it’s not possible for me.

gotobedtwentythree:

I am nothing more than mere muddled misunderstandings; a misanthropic throw of sympathy and disdain. Where one can assume my hatred as condescending another may see it as just and within reason. “I stand above others upon my pedestal” may seem overstated, but for lack of the better grouping of words there is nothing else suited to substitute. For quite the while I sought to be understood, but in my journeys I have, sadly, given up on hope to be understood by another. I am no king, nor any sort of nobility born with power to have others love or desire me. I am a human being with growing pains, a man without a circle of intimate acquaintanceship. I no longer seek the acceptance of others as people give me little to no hope that I was meant to possess a life surrounded by many. I honestly feel that my pattern of thinking doesn’t belong in the societal norm I am surrounded by. I am not saying I am smarter, or wiser, or some sort of preacher, but that I don’t mix well others anymore.

No, this isn’t my cry of self-pity, but my honest belief. Yes there may be a few who do understand me and where I come from, although not tragic, I do have my past and so do others as well. It just seems, from experience, that most people who I find myself around with can honestly give a damn about who I am as a person; my ideals, my hopes, and my fears. Perhaps I may be overstating my situation as well, but nevertheless I cannot deny how I feel and believe. But in all honesty, I would like someone to prove me otherwise — that I am not meant to live a life alone and that others do genuinely care for me for who I am, not just as a person.