Fissures

Ahem.

First of all, I want to apologize for the previous post (Cracks).
It was late night, there was a lot of stuff, it got too intense and (ugh) emotional.

So I'm sorry if it got a little incoherent.

Wait. No I'm not.

I mean, I'm sorry if anyone got offended.

But I have got the chance to re-examine the circumstances, and I'll have at it again with a more rational process.



I still hate my life. That hasn't changed.

And I do want to die. But what I wrote, that was a bit of a rushed thinking. It's too simplistic, it didn't look at every aspect of the problem.

I mean if I really wanted to die, I could very easily off myself at anytime. There are a lot of ways to end a human being, you just need to get creative. Heck, I even carry a kitchen knife in my jeans pocket when I go out. The point here is: it's easy. But of course, the fact that I'm still here typing away on my laptop means that I don't find that solution feasible or desirable. Or at least not yet.

The biggest obstacle in deciding whether or not to kill myself is, I have to admit, my family. I happen to be the first-born son of a first-born son, so that means I'm sort of like the crown prince in the family. This is honest. They all expect me to carry on the family name, be the patriarch, and so on and so forth. Again, this is completely honest. So you can see that should I decide to kill myself, there would (I assume) be a lot of grief. My father, my mother, my grandparents, my cousins, perhaps my friends also (although I think they would have an easier time than my relatives), and my younger brother, the single male human I love most in this world. And I don't want to cause more grief in this world.

So, killing myself is off the table. Oh, and hoping for someone to kill me out of mercy is not really feasible in this day and age. And paying someone to do so is just so unrefined. So, there.

But there are, as always, other ways.

One can argue thusly: the main objection is the grief of family members. If we should eliminate said family members, there would be no one to feel the grief, right? Correct. But this is a huge task. I mean, if I wanted to do it elegantly, which I do. If I should start with the easiest, of course I would start with my grandparents. They are, I admit, rather superannuated, and have many ailments appropriate to their age. It would be easy to, say, poison their food. I just have to find an agent that creates a natural effect (as opposed to, for instance, dumping a large quantity of mercury in their bowls). It wouldn't be that complicated either, there are a lot of substances they can no longer tolerate. As for the rest of the family, I perhaps could design traps or resort to poison again or just use my knife. What I'm saying is, it's really not that complicated. But the problem lies in their numbers. If I started killing my family one by one, sooner or later the suspicion would fall on me. Which, again, would cause a lot of suffering in the family, even if said family is reduced in numbers. Besides, it would be very, very hard for me to kill my brother.

So, killing the rest of my family, while perfectly feasible and will bring about much-desired relief and freedom, requires large expenses, and will take quite some time to see any return on that investment. No.

What about just simply severing ties? I don't believe in that. Deep down, I and they (maybe) would never be able to completely forget about the other(s).

No, I believe that death would be preferable. As the North Wind in the Fables series say, "Death cancels all obligations."

Of course, the best possible outcome is the Apocalypse, which would save a lot of work on my part and hatred and suffering on all parties involved. But since it involves other, less measurable or predictable entities, I can't very well engineer it.

Or can I...?
No, no, let's keep this solid.

So that's it. I just have to decide whether to put an end to all of my family, or just hope for some miracle or natural catastrophe which kills either me or all my family.


Quite rational thinking, don't you think?

Cracks

FRIG.

Pardon my language.

FLIP.

FLUB.

FRACK.

FUCK.

FUUUUUUUCK.

I think I can now say that I HATE MY LIFE.

I hate it. I hate it.


You know what crossed my mind, last Sunday, when a ginger cat passed in front of me?

"I wonder if it would be hard to surgically remove that cat's heart. And lungs. Maybe it's easier to start with just the head. Simply cut the neck. Oh, this reminds me of that idea I had about a guillotine. For kittens."

That.

I don't know if that's relevant, if it's a reliable indicator of my hating life, or just a sign of severe depression, or even insanity.

But I do like the color red.


FUCK.

I hate my life. Usually when I hate things I don't want them ended.

But this is an exception.

Come, Death! I'll probably resist, maybe I'll fight you all the way, but know this: I WANT TO LOSE.

So come at me. Hurry.