4/3/18 -- 1:22 AM Arian asked me what it's like to want to kill yourself. Well, he actually asked why one doesn't. I could not think of an answer. Well, I actually said "I am though". He asked why living is preferable to death. I said it's because the way I feel is basically the same as death. But that was probably a lie. Truth is, life is more feature-rich than death. Death, as an experience, is unsettling. If you don't beleive in anything after, your final experience is total annihilation. The absence of experience. The only true void. I remember the first time I felt that. Sitting on a church pew, engrossed in a sermon, I suddenly became hollow. I closed my eyes, but it was different than every previous time. Everything disappeared. I couldn't hear. There were no smells. Every feeling evaporated. It was complete oblivion. I became an atheist when I was closest to god. I did not enjoy that experience. And now, I can't stop myself from imagining it. I can't stop myself from imagining it. I mean to say that I can generally avoid considering it, but it tends to creep to the forefront of my mind at inoportune times. --- I never really know what to write. When I put pen to paper, the thoughts dissipate. Like they were never there to begin with. Like the bogeyman they terrify me, but I'm not certain they exist. I like to think I'm not crazy. But I don't know what that means. If I were to write down what is sitting in my mind, it would just be walls. Walls of text. Kennedy, painted with all the colors of black. punctuated only by windows. Windows peering out to Julie's window. All illuminated by the soft midnight glow of Hanna. Floating in a sea of all the people I have hurt. Are these thoughts crazy ones? --- I cannot physically cry unelss I am heavily innebriated. And that fact upsets me enough to drink. ________________________________________________________________________________ Dilyn Corner (C) 2020-2026