Being calm and collected actually makes me feel more suicidal

[ranierean]

Anybody else?

If I had to describe my day-to-day emotional state it would be this highly specific state of simmering annoyance: I despise everything about me and my surroundings, down to the ways that I breathe or how my heartbeat lets itself be known – but I can’t call it “hate” because it’s not particularly animating, it’s more like being nagged by the general inconvenience… of life.

Sometimes though… there are moments of clarity, they’re very rare and I have no control of them, but when it strikes me, when I actually get to sit down and listen to myself with my thinking unclouded, I remember that I can’t fool anybody when I act detached and pretend like I don’t care (which is what I usually do).
It’s calming, it doesn’t hurt at all. I’m not “satisfied” either, but I do appreciate how it almost makes me feel whole and “real”.

I almost get it… I’m just clinging onto things that are not there when what I should really fear has less to do with death itself and more my idling making it easier for time to grind down all the little that is left of me into nothingness.

 

[BrahminBoss]

Below the lid of a vast rounded monument
Trickling of gristly vestiges and whacked hopes
Enhanced by the horrible excess of fetid exhalation
And uterine strangulation by the wreaths
Of the herds astray, arid in despair, blessed
With dilated flakes of fire, slowly wafting down
Say, what does a maternal heart feel when merely
Vinegar stills your child's thirst?
You'd implore to harbour his torment in your chest
To make his burden yours, but... Sacrilege!
Who are you, harlot, to interfere with His emerald will
When even your glance should never leave the soil?