I'm at a bit of a low right now, sitting here drinking Liebfraumilch and popping the occasional lorazepam. A thunderstorm is raging outside, even depositing the rarely seen but oft spoken of "pea-sized hail." You don't see hail too often around here, so I went out to gather some for my beloved. It's in the freezer now, on top of a pot pie that I'll never eat. I lift my glass, or bottle, rather, to the power and light people for keeping the electric up during such a beastly storm.
Pure melancholy. Sounds almost pleasant, doesn't it?
I'm in the "stop thinking and march" phase of my illness. I can't stop the voices and thoughts in my head, calling for me to take my own life. They say a lot of other things, too, and if you've read this 'blog before you know of what I speak. Even if you haven't, you may know of what I speak, anyway.
A proper analysis of life and the price of existence will lead any thinking person to the conclusion that we human beings are cursed by evolution. Cursed to know that we are alone, that death is coming, and that it can be kind, when it robs us of our pain. We all know that there is nothing out there, no god, no devil, no six-armed pagan monkey god. Just noble gases, empty spaces, matter and anti-matter and very, very, very, very, very rarely, life. But that is all we are, rare in the universe. No god watches over us or cares about our sins. God and sin are human creations, nothing more. And humans are just animals with the ability to think, thanks to time allowed evolution.
If you think there is a god, there isn't one. Just the one that exists in the minds of lesser minded people, or those in need of kindness. Or both. You may not like it, you may not know it, but you are at the mercy of forces beyond your control. Forces that can't, and don't, even know that you are there.
I find this all totally acceptable, not that it matters. We all have to lump the existential truth. If you are a friend, and I have many, and you want to try to get me into the fold of your religion, don't waste your time. If you want to talk to me about Jesus you may as well talk about Shiva, scientific pantheism, Zeus or Zoroastrianism. I don't believe in any of it, and if you do I think you a fool. There is no god, or life beyond this one. When you die, the light goes out, as it were, and you are no more.
It sounds wonderful.
I talk a lot. Ask my beloved, she'll tell you. I'm starting to think that she is sick of me, and may even be looking for a way out of our relationship. That she is tired of me, my "mental illness" and inability to function properly. Who could like me, let alone love me? I'm a wretched human being, shat out of my mother's vagina and better left to die. Nothing on me works right, and...
Well, that goes on and on.
Fuck this. I'm going to lie down.