impermanence is heavy

This will probably come across wrong but lately I’ve been feeling passively suicidal.

 

I should explain what I mean, before those who know me start worrying: I don’t want to off myself – far from it, but I feel like if there was something terminally wrong with me right now, I wouldn’t fight to stay alive.

 

I’m also not looking after myself very well, probably subconsciously speeding things along. It hit me when I saw photos of myself from the weekend, and I just looked very very ill.

 

Eating hardly anything will do that to you I guess. It’s just that when I eat anything my stomach turns into a siren song of migrating whales; body says no. Anyway. Hypochondria here I come.

 

I’ve always hoped that when it comes down to the dying part I’ll be able to just sit down and meditate like a Buddhist monk, and peacefully throw away my body.

 

I have no ties to this body. I’m starting to feel like I have no ties to this life either. Too hard. Too much sorrow. Too much goes wrong.

 

In this game of snakes and ladders, I’ve had way too many snakes and I’m kind of over it. I keep rolling the dice, keep trudging up the board towards the happiness of the 100th square, but those fricking snakes always appear right when I think I’m on a run.

 

It really is self-indulgent thinking, but I can’t help it. In the scheme of things I’ve done pretty well. I’m blessed. I have money, a roof over my head, good friends; there are countless people much worse off than I.

 

Even so, I don’t see the point of struggling through pain and sorrow. Nothing in this world is real – physical or otherwise. I can’t permanently grasp on to anything. Everything is in a state of impermanence, including me, including my body.

 

There’s a terrible sadness when you realise you’re just sitting around killing time before death. It’s very hard to come out of that and into a place of inspiration, motivation, elevation.

 

And rolling the dice is becoming very tedious.