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Something terrible happened in my life. I've dealt with it by converting my perception into an apathetic receptor for existential patterns; just patterns; mere patterns in which truth and final meaning are unreachable. This allows me to appreciate the flowers despite the horror, but I realized I got closer to the mental capacity for suicide. This emotionlessness protects me from the unending abyss, but a morbid curiosity of "what existence actually is" gets stronger that I fear no bullet to sit quietly in my brain. Imagine me clinging to the cliff without any tension, just a romantic stare to the question "what happens after I fall?". I want to cry but I question its function, I want to scream but I understand the nothingness that follows.
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I was beaten by someone, walked miles with flip flops and felt my heart flicker. It's nothing you would want to feel, with the pain switch turned on. When we die we might go through pain but after that it feels like nothing. I don't think we can gather strength to take our own life, but rather regret taking that terrible decision.
ReplySometimes, all that goes in your mind is not you. I hope the strength gives you the capacity to rise and not fall
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