Of my own free will

I ... turned away and chose to die. Probably. I suppose I need coffee to get through this. My last coffee ...

I don't really know how I first got there ... to that dark place. I think it was ... when I first considered life beyond Clarity. Finding only a dark, empty hole beyond where Love would be. Well, I say Love; But I suppose it's more complicated than that. Maybe it's a place of shame. A hole for me to hide myself away. To hide ... maybe from the judgmental eyes of humankind. A place where I might be beyond the demands that would try to bend me one way or another - without care nor reason for my place in all that.

However often I found myself there, I also always found my way back out. But to what?

A life in rubbles, no way to go, nowhere to turn ... and for my own concerns ... just "the rubble of my own doing". The pile of shame maybe ... which, try as I might, would ... so far at least ... forever remain that way; For nobody wanted - or was there - to hear what I had to say about it.

I would give it reason. Fight this darkness, giving it meaning, giving it space ... to build a wall such that I might not as easily slip back into it. Or that I might find my way back out. But as the story goes, there was no use. It was never really the problem; And what had me slip in there in the first place, would remain. And nothing I did managed to change that.

Give it reason, give it time. Yet ... after all the reason and time given ... it only stands there, more clearly than ever. I'm forsaken and nobody cares about me. Nobody's there to catch me, only figments of imagination that challenge my sanity.


I figured myself to be the problem. That I was asking too much. Yet I did not think that what I was asking was unreasonable; Nor could I change the matters to those questions. But still, eventually I stopped asking alltogether.

Who am I? What am I? It did not matter. It was never part of "the deal", not from my end anyway, that You accept who or what I thought about that. But still it wasn't enough. Or You just couldn't see it ... through all the rubble.

And so, here I find myself again. At the threshold of this darkness ... and after all the time and reason given so far ... or perhaps by virtue of the moment ... it's presented to me as a choice. Which way do I turn? This way or that way?

I would not have spent all this time building walls and ways out of it, to just slip back into it so easily. I feel like I have myself a table and a seat in front of the gate, to sit down and think before I might come to a closure. And yet, it would seem ... inevitable. For what is there? In "the Light"?

It is difficult to say, as it is difficult to say what this darkness is. Maybe it was a way for me to choose Clarity after I learned that I couldn't have it. Maybe it was a way to choose against it, after I learned that I had no love for the people whom I should devote myself to.
Maybe it was a way to prolong my solitude; And the pleasures and joys I grew accustomed to therein ... as opposed to what an alternative might bring.

It has become a refuge. A hell maybe - a bitter ending. Something that would not or could not ever be; And so everyone lived as though it were just a fantasy; Thus however ... driving me deeper and deeper unto its lures.


Eventually it became a promise. An idea of salvation. A way out ... . A way away from "all this". A way unto a possible truth - as it would originally have been - after the matters of Clarity were rejected, one way or another.

Selfish ... maybe. But what good is selflessness in a world governed by selfish people?
It's nothing. It's stupid. It's not a way ... of reason. Not a way ... anyone should feel convinced to live.


But well. Who knows? How complicated could it be? How easy can I make it?

I suppose I wanted this. I suppose at some point I cried out to God ... that please ... take me away, let me go, I don't care anymore. I want none of this thing ... called life. I hate everybody and everybody hates me. So why should I bother pretending like I have a place here?

Compassion ... Pitty. "Mitleid". Mit = with, Leid = suffering. To be amidst ones own, whatever the cost, whatever the ways. Pfft. Sure. So I am ... "amidst mine own" ... . And there is nobody here. Nothing to ... even suggest that there's a penny of truth to this ... well, I have to call it nonsense.


And should I get up, and take a step away from that dark, what do I find? Politics, Intrigue, Selfishness, Deluded minds, ... Pollution, Waste, ... Ignorance. Ugh. And so I'm cast back onto my seat, hoping for a world ... hoping for a life that doesn't seem to exist.

Maybe there's a way there ... somewhere. I think. But ... not for this Brain. Not for this life. I tire at the thought of what there might be. I'm way too old, way too far down the road, to rethink and restructure. All I ever find is more and more. Like being stuck in a Hamster Wheel. It keeps on going.
Maybe it is a rejection of the mundane. Yet I would dare. To walk that walk too, to not care for what I might receive ... but to be at peace with what I might do, however little that might be. And yet the world turned to shit and I seriously do not want to be a part of this thing called humanity anymore.


I should give You an Ultimatum then. But if so, I'd have to be ready to pull through. And else, this thing would just keep going and going ... until, well, who knows?

...