A Little Something Extra

and when one sees it one knows, and if one doesn’t see it, one still knows, but one believes there’s no use looking at it because it’s not real, so better look elsewhere.*  I say to myself, in moments ‘You’re stuck being alive, might as well keep looking.’  I believe one knows suicide isn’t the answer, because suicide isn’t an escape, isn’t the escape it was supposed to be.**  How much I longed to feel satisfied in the concept of suicide, of escape!  But never could I reach certainty, there was an annoying knaw in my mind, a burr I couldn’t dislodge,; for moments, a moment in time I would almost think I was there, I was going to push it out and I’d be free to commit suicide in perfect good conscience, but the moment never led to the promise 

I’m stuck I’m stuck, I didn’t choose to be here, I didn’t ask to be created.  And now you condemn me, my own mind condemns me and you created that mind, and now I’m stuck in worse than no existence, I’m a failure you made.  You’re promise better be real, you dumb bastard, or I’ll condemn you.

Do i make you cry?  because i hate you?  does it seem unfair?

*it goes both ways. there is a truth reading and an untruth reading, both true and together melt into nothing.

**so then how does suicide happen?  I believe suicide happens when one accepts that suicide isn’t an escape– so the one committing suicide in actuality isn’t committing suicide in intention. 

The very moment before suicide is very elusive–the very moment before death is very elusive.  and yet I will know it someday.  Maybe the same is true of God. *

What is the moment before suicide that enables suicide?  What is the mind then, subjectively?

The very moment before death is elusive