Psycho-Babble Faith | about religious faith | Framed
This thread | Show all | Post follow-up | Start new thread | List of forums | Search | FAQ

Why Live?

Posted by TF on December 30, 2003, at 20:57:55

There are some situations in life that are just intolerable to the people who witness or experience them. Some people can't tolerate disease, some can't tolerate social rejection, others can't tolerate pain and then there are those who can't tolerate loss, which, usually, is included with many of the other demons I mentioned. Let's not make this an essay, though. My favorite subject is egology so it's natural I'd focus on myself here, which is my intention. Otherwise I doubt I'd have the mental stamina to beat around the bush with my very general and obvious ideas.

I'm just one of those people who has nothing left to fear. I've borne the worst possible curse that I couldn't even imagine and am left alive. I was stricken with an invisible pain, an emptiness that trumps all of the fears I have ever had, redefining and negating them as it were. I don't fear physical pain, I don't fear incapacitation, I don't fear social destruction, I don't fear even hell, because I live every waking second in a torture chamber custom fit for myself.

I spent my entire childhood and growing-up years depending on my creativity to cope with real life misery. Instead of making friends I'd invent them, instead of searching for excitement I'd have vivid daydreams. You get the picture. It wasn't as unhealthy as I probably make it sound... Reality and the dreamworld actually complimented each other. I'd take things observed or experienced in the real world and impliment them in my dreams, then I'd apply lessons learned in the dreamworld to the real world. It made me seem mature for my age. I think it's safe to say I had a good memory with an average but agile intellect. These attributes contributed to my coping skills, basically it was a defense against the outside world.

However, in the late teenage years I began to withdraw even more, and my ability to reconcile the dreamworld with the real world sort of dulled, or it was my motivation to do so that waned. In any event, it cost me in terms of school work and my ability to concentrate. I had thoughts of leaving home and school behind, unrealistic goals of making it in hollywood or elsewhere as a writer or some such (heh). Any kind of work where I wouldn't have to chain myself down. I became more and more dependant on the dreamworld as the situation deteriorated.

Then there came a point where I'd share my world with others, real people, in my writing. Suddenly it became an outlet to social acceptance and for the first time I knew what it was like to have 'real' friends. It didn't take long for the dreamworld and my writing hobby to take a backseat to my pursuit of social acceptance. I was becoming addicted to it, addicted to being told that my life isn't a waste and that what I do is important (which is nothing, by the way.). By then I'm writing and dreaming for purpose of gaining the acceptance and admiration of these people.

ANyway, I'll skip the rest as it sort of peters out there... There comes a point where I lost interest in writing and lost my ability to engage in the dreamworld, to shape it and mold it as I used to. Abstract thought became a memory. I was turning into just another dumb hick with no talent and no purpose in life other than to shovel dung.

I know this must all sound so vague, fragmented and rambling. You'll just have to use your imagination a little to relate to me. Sorry.

Right now I'm sort of stuck in limbo. I'm in a place where I'm questioning who I even was before all this happened, and regretting who I am now. I'm just losing sight of the person I used to be, a person I used to like. Someone whos thoughts were stylish, wise and agile. Someone who could create abstract worlds and scenery at a moments notice. Someone that could make connections and relate to people and things in the world. Now I'm lucky if I can envision one sentence without it slipping from my mind before it's halfway done, or go one day without saying at least five things that make me seem stupid, oblivious or ignorant. Ignorant would actually be a plus if I could be logical to make up for it.

ANyway, I'm just wondering if there's any point to going on this way. Why should I live? To pass on my flawed genes? To watch the world pass me by without making an impression? To search for enlightenment until I die in disappointment? I might as well be dead now. I'm not sure that any of you, no matter what your religious inclination, could justify my continuing to live. At least not in my mind. This is the way I see it: I've had a good run. Might as well discontinue it while I'm still having coherent thoughts and insights. I don't want this dark age to be a part of my life. I don't like this aspect of existence, and I think it's my right to ignore it if I want to. There's no lesson to be learned from it. Not for me, because I can barely hold on to the knowledge I've already acquired. Even if I got my mind back someday (which I really can't see happening... the fog is so terrible that I feel a part of my brain is forever closed or cut off.), I doubt I'd be able to look back on this time with any sort of objectivity. It's too damn distorted, and I'm living it at this exact moment.

This isn't really a suicide threat, just my offhand musings, so please don't be offended.




Post a new follow-up

Your message only Include above post

Notify the administrators

They will then review this post with the posting guidelines in mind.

To contact them about something other than this post, please use this form instead.


Start a new thread

Google www
Search options and examples
[amazon] for

This thread | Show all | Post follow-up | Start new thread | FAQ
Psycho-Babble Faith | Framed

poster:TF thread:294884