09 january 2021
i'm sick of pain.
i was standing on the windowsill a few minutes ago. i don't know what hurts more between not being able to live and not being able to die. at least if i really wasn't allowed death i could rue that
but the thing is, akira's right. it's easy to die, i gotta stop convincing myself it's not.
but i'm sick of loss. and everyone is.
and i don't want to cause loss. i want to be surrounded but also to be abandoned, for there to be no one to mourn me and that way i can actually die. i can't keep living for others.
i'm going to try to write a poem about that feeling of, i semi-quote: when you think it's too late to do something but then it turns out it wasn't so you feel bad but now you think it must really be too late and actually it still wasn't but what about now? so you still don't do anything.
a quick analysis of this indicates that the inhibition, the fact that i'm not doing something is caused by anxiety, or fear, of something or someone. the object of desire is something that requires some time to do, an opportunity. the status quo maintains itself, as it always does, and the nasty thing about this is that you actually feel the regret increase every iteration of the "i could've, now i can't." scheme. so, in order to make it into an ideogram, i have to ask myself:
why am i afraid? what will happen if i don't have time? what do i want to do? how much time do i need? how do i realise how much time i have?
this last one seems to talk about how much time i have.... alive. i'm afraid of my own death and i'm trying to build something, to live. I'M AFRAID OF PEOPLE LEAVING ME, AND I WANT TO BE HAPPY WITH THEM WHILE THEY'RE HERE BUT SINCE I ALWAYS THINK THEY'RE LEAVING I CAN'T EVER DO ANYTHING.
sorry.