Archives for posts with tag: fear

The top search term for this blog is “just kill yourself”. I don’t know why anybody would search that. Do they hate Google? Is that like a virtual punching pillow? Or are they talking to themselves in the third person shouting that they should stop being a pussy and just do it already. I don’t know really, I hope they started having a better time once they got here though. I hope they learned that there is always a Self that you should kill, but that it is almost never the big One that seems so obvious.

Behind that is “porn star fucked”, I’m not sure if the second two words are going to make that search any more useful. It sounds like kind of an angry search – maybe they’re in the process of killing unwanted pieces of Self! That would be exciting. I wonder what that person did when they got sent to my post about baring my naked soul to the world through poetry. Were they touching themselves? Were they at work? Did their horny-rage get smooshed by ooshygooshy poetry? I have no idea, but this is wonderful.

WEEEEEE SHOW ME THEM CROWS FEET

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who battles the zeus-battler?

God came down and talked to me last night. Was I dreaming? Don’t think so. Not the god-as-the-universe god, I’m talking God-God, Zeus-God. Real fleshy booming lightning and thunder and creator of universes on purpose God. He came down to me and told me my purpose in life. He said, “Your life is your purpose in the Universe.”

He told me my purpose in life was to be afraid, to experience depression, to regret everything, to be neurotic. God made me a promise, “I have willed that you make at least three more catastrophic mistakes before I kill you.” What a guarantee! How stressful! Why would God make me suffer so much? Not even as a test – why would he create such a foolish meaning?

He told me my purpose in life was to feel Read the rest of this entry »

life is the universal default

I was laying on the floor in my mother’s apartment with bloodshot eyes when the answer to life hit me: just kill myself! It made perfect sense logically – life is terrible, so just stop doing it. (Oh the raging hormones of a depressed twenty-something!) I laid there with the inescapable Answer but it didn’t feel quite right. I knew something was askew. I was depressed and everything was terrible and the last nice thing I thought to myself was, “Good job, you took a shower today!” That had been three days prior.

There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. – Albert Camus

It seems like the answer to that question is in every breath taken, meal eaten.

Sometimes life fails us and we need to end it. End the experience.

Here’s the secret: You don’t kill your whole self. Read the rest of this entry »

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