Anyway.
I want to share some assignments, articles and essays that I put a lot of time into and really pained me when I failed. After my term spent in time-out I had no guidance in my plot or any part of an essay so possibly it is my fault after all I'm just a failure.
Sorry now I'm having a breakdown trying to retype everything because I've confused myself too much. I need to step away from the below stressors and allow
Yourself to try.......
I welcome you to read them, to help me understand.
Hopefully I am making sense now or else will update again
Peace, Sarah-Kate
. Please read and if any comments please I would appreciate any. Not begging lol
Peace.
Peace.
Stories, notes and poems included to give insight as to
personality and thoughts that are consuming beyond day dreaming. There are more
written that have not been included, these are just interesting pieces found on
a flash drive; like a diary found in a forgotten library. The way the mind of a
Borderline you would have figured out by now is confusing. These are scriptures
before diagnosis; confronting thoughts of a confused teenager trying to make
sense of the world.
STORY ONE – BIRDS IN THE AIR 26/6/10
It was strange, the way the bird flew around in the air,
squawking at nothing. Damn Seagulls, I thought. I watched carefully. The bird
was alone headed away from the sun continuously squawking at nothing. No wonder
people shot them.
Back in the day birds in cages, canaries I think were taken
into the mines, and at the smell of any dangerous gasses or toxins the bird
would either make a noise or die instantly. As far as I know the system worked
well for humans but not so good for the birds.
By the ay the bird flew I thought was not aimlessly, but
from something. To warn other birds or make a good target for a rock or bullet?
Sunset was coming over the head of the hills and as I took
one good look at the sun set glistening against the sky setting rays of
sickening orange and red in continual
endless patterns.
The walk home ended in silence and darkness. Not a sound was
made to be heard.
When I walked through the front door, my mother didn’t look
up at me, as usual. I can’t say I expected her to but every now and again it
would be nice to be welcomed home from school. Instead my mother just sat there
by the television, glass of scotch in hand, cigarette in the other waiting for
Dad to come through the door perhaps. Even I knew he was not coming home, but
Mum refused to accept or even hear the words. I admire her for that, still
holding onto something so lost that is beyond ever going to happen.
To my room I quickly venture, drop my bag have a shower and
head to the kitchen. Mum is still in the same seat, the glass of scotch
slightly lower, if I make too much noise she will yell at me, maybe hit me.
I make my usual sandwich, eat at the table; though mum is at
lost I still believe to uphold household manners.
After my meal I pass through the room she is constantly
sitting in and make my way to bed. That is our daily, ‘on the clock’ routine,
it does not differ.
STORY TWO - JOAN OF ART - SCHOOL ASSIGNMENT ON STORY
REGARDING BEAUTY AND SCENE 18/02/2010
When I woke up this morning, I was unaware of how the day
was going to end. This day was a very
important day for me, in two aspects.
Today, I woke up hoping to fulfil my dreams. When in the
end, I became one.
The second I woke up, I immediately knew what day it was. It
was Saturday, the last day of the week and the only day I had been planning for
months.
I was diagnosed with terminal leukaemia almost a year ago,
shortly after my Father died of the same disease. It was only as of his death
that my family and I were tested. Out of my four siblings, only I was
diagnosed. The disease is not even considered hereditary and yet I managed to
develop it.
I blame no one.
My mother was broken by this fact, she blames herself. As if
losing my father wasn’t enough for her, as a month later, she was told she was
going to lose me.
As of that fatal day, my mother has practically ignored my
siblings and devoted her time into helping me complete my dream to win a beauty
pageant. The dream sounds stupid, I agree. It is all I have wanted in life as
long as I can remember. Now, barely sixteen, it is all I can think about.
Months, my Mother and I spent ages searching for dresses,
perfecting hair style and practising talents. I hadn’t had to worry about
school; I felt more a burden to my ‘class-mates’ than anything.
My brothers and sister sat in the back of the car for the
three hour drive to the location of the pageant. It was in the Grand hall, far
west of the city, almost at the ocean.
I had never been there before and the moments I spent there
today were assuredly not wasted.
From the car into my dress, I felt like a princess. Although
my bones were frail and my skin ghostly pale, I felt almost unique. My dress
was sky blue layered with further blue frills to the ground, rounding off at
the knees, so it was possible to witness my shiny silver brand new stilettos. I
had refused to cut my hair from the day I was diagnosed. Now, reaching my lower
back, I wore my dark hair in lose curls, falling all around my body. Carefully
topped off, with a small silver hair piece, to add the ‘princess look’.
When I looked in the
mirror I really felt ‘pretty’. A lot different to how I feel now, lying in my
hospital bed, my death bed; with my previous day, flashing through my eyes.
I was crowned - having won talent section by painting and
runners up position as presentation. My painting was of ‘Joan of Arc’ acting in
a war scene. Joan of Arc was my hero, burned to death hundreds of years ago as
a witch, I find her inspirational for all women. Ironically I was named after
her. My painting was found motivating and creative to the audience and judges.
I dedicated the painting to my Father, the one who taught me to paint and the
one who I had inherited my artistic strive from. “Oh, The irony” would be his
exact words.
A proper crown was placed on my head, as queen for the
painting, and a sash over my shoulder. The standing ovation had made me
shudder. Off stage, I became over-whelmed when I collapsed into a state I was
not to recover from.
My last views were of the Pageants audience, the hospital
doors and my mother’s blotchy red face.
My organs are now shutting down, as I fail to move, lying
with my eyes shut. I am a prisoner to my body; the pain is immense as no matter
what I do, I can’t release a movement or word. I can feel my Mother’s hand in
mine, squeezing constantly. I want to thank her for all she has done for me, or
just to squeeze back. She is talking to me slowly and calmly, though I cannot
speak back. It’s as if I am being burned at the stake like ‘Joan of Arc’,
nobody cares for screams she let out, or the screaming in my head. What and all
that is heard, is acknowledged, as the day past: the day just lived.
My mother has said it is okay to leave her; she will meet me
again one day. I’m not sure if my brothers and sister are in the room. All I
can hear are the last words spoken to me on Earth by my Mother, “Goodnight, my
love, my beauty queen’.
STORY THREE – EUOLGY OF SPENCER – SCHOOL ASSIGNMENT OF
SPEECHES FOR PURPOSE 12/05/2010
It is with great sorrow we are seated in this church today.
We have lost a member of society, a friend, a brother and a son. Spencer was
all these things and he cherished every moment.
It is a tragedy to lose such a young person who had so much
to live for.
Spencer will always remain in our thoughts and hearts, for
who he was and the role he played in each of our lives can never be forgotten.
Spencer was our only child and I will never forget the day I
gave birth to him. It was a stormy night and the rain pelted down. I was
already eight days overdue before I went into labour in the middle of this
night. My husband Liam drove me straight to the hospital, we were so afraid we
were not going to make it in time as there was trees covering more than half
the roads. Once we made it to the hospital, the doctors were concerned there
would be a blackout, adding to my anxiety. That night I gave birth to my first
son, Spencer Cain Kenneth. He was the only baby in our town born under
Hurricane Luke, and led to him being affectionately known as Hurricane Spencer.
From the time Spencer was a child, he had an affinity with
dogs. He would spend hours attempting to teach our neighbour’s dog Suey various
tricks. I will never forget the smile on Spencer’s face the day we brought home
Hanky. It was our first night with the puppy home and he was spending it in the
laundry. Throughout the night the scatter of paws could be heard on the tiles
but, strangely, no barking. No one, not even Spencer, was allowed to tend to
the dog throughout the night to allow him to settle. The following day, the
laundry door was opened to find our puppy all curled up in broken tissues.
Hanky had spent the entire night chewing through the tissue box stash making
himself comfortable. It amused Spencer to then name the new puppy Hanky. Hanky,
though old, is still alive today and lonely wanders the house in search of his
best friend.
I have to say that Spencer’s teenage years were as big a
challenge as was his birth. Liam and I, together with his teachers, were amazed
at how far Hurricane Spencer got, despite all the time he spent escaping from
the school grounds. He was not afraid to try new things. We always told him if
he put in as much time as he did into escaping he could go far in life. Spencer
did not want to go ‘far’, he wanted to live life. For every test he failed he
would say ‘I had better things to do’. For every test he passed he would say ‘I
needed that’. Spencer had a plan- despite his rebellious ways he made that plan
work for him.
Spencer successfully completed high school and was accepted
into university to study veterinary science. This was a shock for all of us.
“It’s all part of the plan” was all Spencer said after he got accepted.
The most amazing things about Spencer were his core values
of courage, dignity, fun and hope. He never let anything or anyone stand in his
way. He never let teachers, parents or even friends tell him how to live his
life. He never took no for an answer. The words ‘no’, ‘impossible’ and
‘limitations’ were not part of his vocabulary. Spencer lived by the words of
John F. Kennedy “Things do not happen. Things are made to happen.”
No one could comprehend or begin to understand the plan
Spencer had. Our son knew what he wanted and only he could make that happen. It
was a hurricane every time he came through the door. A hurricane we will
forever miss.
It is a tragedy for this young life to be cut short when it
seemed to have only just begun. It is unlikely for a child with autism to
become independent and achieve a successful career. He did so well after being
challenged in this way defying the odds. I believe Spencer would have no
regrets for the way he lived his life and that he would not want us to mourn
him for long. He would not want us to let his passing prevent us from living
our lives. Let Spencer always be in our thoughts and hearts. Let us leave today
not sad, but filled with hope.
Spencer would want us to walk away from here and not let
another day pass without learning or trying something new. The next time you
are asked to go somewhere, to try something, or to have a go, instead of saying
no, say yes, for Spencer and experience the joy of living.
“If nothing is ventured, nothing is gained” -words of
Spencer Cain Kenneth.
STORY FOUR – SCHOOL ASSIGNMENT – INDERVIDUAL INVESTIGATION
ESSAY 14/06/2010
To what extent does the film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ accurately
portray the events of Holocaust?
The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ identifies and portrays events of
the Holocaust to a heart-wrenching extent. Sophie is a Holocaust survivor who
was sent to Auschwitz with her children.
Sophie’s survival of the Holocaust was possible because of her Aryan
features, fluent German and jobs she worked when interned. Sophie is
heart-broken and forever haunted by the choices she made throughout the war
affecting the loss of her children, to which influences the title of the film.
The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ accurately portrays situations
and devastation in Auschwitz during the Holocaust to the extent of Sophie
working for a high ranked officer. Auschwitz was the major crematorium camp of
Nazi Germany. The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ shows Sophie’s journey to and arrival
of Auschwitz. The film shows no evidence of escaping fate of Auschwitz for any
person sent there. The unfortunate mistake of Sophie’s arrest leaves her in
Auschwitz despite the position of her Nazi Father and her Catholic beliefs. A
brief tour of a part of Auschwitz is given as Sophie is walked past blocks of
cells before brought into the house of an officer. The officer, Rudolf Höss, portrayed in
‘Sophie’s Choice’ is historically accurate as being a Nazi officer. ‘Sophie’s
Choice’ accurately portrays events of the Holocaust occurring at the existing
Auschwitz and from the devastation and confusion she experiences upon her
arrival at the camp to the distressing extent of Sophie witnessing the
prisoners left in cells with no water or food for days before being murdered in
the gas chambers.
Survival of World War two and Auschwitz during the Holocaust
is portrayed to the extent of Sophie given the tragic choice of choosing
between her two children. Survival
during the Holocaust was dim for those as prisoners in camps. Life or death of
one person came down to a Nazis decision of who would live and who would die.
On arrival of Auschwitz, Sophie is lined up straight off the train with her two
children Jan and Ava, whilst a Nazi officer stops to comment on Sophie’s beauty
and Aryan features. Sophie then pleads she is a Catholic and her arrest was a
mistake. Her pleas are useless as the officer mocks her faith and because of
her outburst states “You may keep one child”. Sophie is shocked by this and
cannot believe the situation. “I cannot choose! I cannot choose!” she cries in
German to the officer continuously. Her efforts are worthless as in the moment
the officer says “Both will then die”. As the officer reaches to take both
children from Sophie, she panics and makes the ultimate decision of giving up
her “Little girl”, Ava. Ava is then taken away to a crematorium, leaving Sophie
in distress of her daughter’s death. Sophie is never to see her son again after
the selection at the end of the line from the trains and is unaware of his
survival or death. Sophie was lucky
enough to be healthy to work as a secretary for two days in a Nazi house,
supplying her with food, water, a shower and shelter for survival. Sophie’s
existing qualities of secretarial skills, Aryan features and fluent German made
her capable of the job in the Nazi office. On acquaintance to the Nazi officer,
Sophie tries to convince him of her mistaken arrest and asks for him to
investigate if her son is alive as he would be the perfect candidate for the ‘Lebensborn
program’. Sophie’s choice portrays events of the Holocaust by Aryan features,
German language skills and secretarial skills being key advantages for survival
during the Holocaust; this is accurately portrayed to the devastating extent of
both Sophie and the Nazi officer choosing what child to die.
‘Sophie’s Choice’ accurately portrays to a dramatic extent
the cruel deaths and losses occurring throughout the Holocaust. After the
emotional loss of Sophie’s daughter Ava and the unknown whereabouts of her son
Jan; Sophie is left with no children. Sophie’s Father, a Nazi sympathizer and
co-creator of the ‘Final Solution’ was unlawfully shot dead by the
Gestapo. Sophie’s husband Josef, who was
an associate of her Father at the University where they worked, was also shot
dead by the Gestapo. Sophie’s entire family was killed, leaving her with no
one. During the flashbacks of Sophie’s
time at Auschwitz, death is shown by people being randomly selected from the
selection lines, shot on the spot and chosen to die in the gas chambers. No
mercy is shown by Nazis for example the response of Rob Höss’s wife, once
witnessing Sophie standing in her kitchen, her comment of “The children are in
perfect health”, implying Sophie’s ‘Jewish blood’ is lethal; this response is
relevant historically to how the Jews were portrayed as something ‘unnatural’
and ‘infectious’. The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ portrays events of unlawful deaths
throughout the Holocaust accurately to the extent of
demonstrating, despite Sophie’s Father and husband being Nazi
supporters, were still killed by the historically existing Gestapo.
The post war aftershock Jews felt is portrayed throughout
‘Sophie’s Choice’ to the tearful extent of her passionate suicide. The
emotional affect left on Sophie from the Holocaust leaves her vulnerable and
welcoming of her new spouse Nathan; who she praises for ‘saving her life’.
Sophie devotes the remainder of her life to Nathan who is a Jew “obsessed with
the Nazis escaping justice”. Sophie does not show any interest in sharing her
past with Nathan therefore consumes herself with his presence despite her
unawareness of Nathan being a paranoid schizophrenic. Sophie is taunted and
afraid of claims that she is unworthy of living because of her past choice
between her children. Sophie finds comfort in the poem by Emily Dickinson
‘Ample make this bed’; which ironically is how Sophie first came into contact
with Nathan. The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’
portrays the aftershock victims of the Holocaust felt accurately by the vulnerable
bond formed between Sophie and Nathan, having created their own little world in
which they live.
The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ successfully identifies and
portrays events of the Holocaust to a deeply emotional extent. Sophie’s journey
tells us keys to her survival of the Holocaust in Auschwitz; how she was faced
with the unthinkable decision of choosing between her only children; the hope
she held of her sons survival into the ‘Lebensborn program’; the pain and guilt
in the aftershock she felt from her decision and the known fact of the death of
her entire family; leaving her to immigrate to America where she rebuilt her
life around Nathan. Questions are posed as to what if Sophie had never met
Stingo? Whether Sophie would not have been convinced of the death she felt she
deserved, or having continued to live, hiding her past by embracing Nathan, if
she had never met and confided in Stingo; who was the prime cause of the
confusion of an affair between Stingo and Sophie which lead to Nathan’s schizophrenic
outburst influencing the passionate suicide Sophie and Nathan then commit.
Stingo is of no portraying relevance to the Holocaust, as are Sophie and Nathan
fictional characters. ‘Sophie’s Choice’ is a likely example of a devastating
occurrence during the Holocaust.
Word Count: 1,190
Written By Sarah Copeland.
Bibliography/references
The novel ‘Sophie’s Choice’ by William Styron, Published
1979
Internet Movie Data Base, IMBD, dates viewed – 22nd May
2010, 7th June 2010, last updated- 31st March 2010, <
http://www.imbd.com/title/tt0084707/ >
Answers Corp, AC, Melodie Monahan, Critical Essay on
Sophie’s Choice, Thomson Gale, date viewed- 7th June 2010, last updated- 2006
< http://www.answers.com/topic/Sophie-s-choice-criticism/ >
DIARY – 14/05/2012- TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF MY WORLD
It is hard to explain exactly what I am thinking right now.
I have a full time job that pays poorly. I am 18 years of age. I did not finish
school. I have no other recognisable qualifications. I have a family I cannot
feel for. I do not make time to spend in other people lives. I think the only
reason I stay at my work is because I like the people I work with. The people I
work with share the disrespect of customers and it’s amusing to talk about them
as they leave the store.
It would be a waste of time to think about leaving this town
because honestly I never will. I do not know anything else, I would have a
different style of life to now and in a way too different that things may feel
worse because then both places I could go to have negatives. I was always told
I could do anything I like. I do believe that and I believe it is possible for
everyone willing to try, hence my problem on not wanting to try. My reasoning
for not wanting to try is nothing simpler then the fact I would eventually
return in the same mind set and position I am in now, which makes me wonder is
that all life is? Life just goes around in circles, but when does it end? What
if we die? For example if we go around in circles we would come back a new,
when you really think about it that is a contradicting statement towards life
as it is not a game, you cannot just hit game over and expect to come back. But
what does happen? Anything you want to believe. I respect other religions and
anyone’s personal beliefs though I was brought up a Christian and I believe in
heaven and in hell, in God’s judgement and his punishment. I believe I deserve
to go to hell, so why delay my eternity there? You are probably thinking what
one girl could do in 18 years that is so bad she deserves an eternity in hell.
It’s simple, I sin, the same as majority of those who have already left this
earth.
I need to stop rambling in thought as it is a constant waste
of my time because there is no way I can record all my thoughts in a way
someone will understand. God understands and I can understand why he would not
forgive me. Sometimes I wonder if he put me in this position to do this act,
obviously he did. I have already done so much I do not wish to do anymore.
I only want to die. That is what I want to do in life is
die. I cannot see anything else. I want all trace of my existence erased. My
parents only ‘love’ me because they help create this mess and have invested all
this time and effort, what a waste it would be to see it go to waste, but what
is worse? Living a waste of a life like this and dying anyway or getting it
over and done with now.
I am not a good person. The way my mind works uncontrollably,
it will never amount to anything of real worth. I have already decided against
the purpose of having a child. No child deserves to have my genes and have the
chance of inheriting this, or anything like this.
I cannot feel anything. I knew it was bad when I could no
longer read a single page of a book without my might wondering off onto
something compete irrelevant.
So why do I feel nothing? Numb. Psychically I do not react
emotionally leading to the constant want of trying to harm myself, through hunger,
blood and pain. Are the bruises all I’m worth? Will the scars ever fully heal?
I thought God wanted me to die young. I had it all planned several times. I get
the idea and then I can’t think of anything else. The thoughts completely
consume me like a coin in a wheat silo. If I was to die young how come
everything I do doesn’t seem to work or to follow through? 5 stitches, deep
enough that fat was exposed but no main vein. Paracetamol more than my weight,
plus added toxins of alcohol and all I did was sleep. It’s impossible. It is
also impossible to have no feeling and yet, here I am.
It is like when someone dies. You have a funeral and say
your good byes blah blah blah, and close the book. What the fuck. Just because
they have died doesn’t mean that’s the end. That is stupid. The human race is a
stupid race. We are all immature, stupid, cheated and sinful. Not a race sorry,
because we have already established this is not a game. Why do we need closure?
Closure doesn’t erase the fact they were always there, that that person existed
and played some kind of roll in your life. Their life is gone, so why are they
from yours? You say goodbye. You say goodbye when someone leaves. Well, they
already left for wherever they were going and they didn’t say goodbye. So fuck
them. They are gone from now but not from forever. Like if you dropped your
favourite piece of jewellery in the deepest part of the ocean, there is no
point jumping in, no point getting upset because either way you will not get it
back, it was an event that happened and now it’s over and your left behind. So
after this funeral, what, everyone is just fine and dandy? No one discusses
their thoughts afraid of what emotions they may awaken in someone else. Why do
those emotions erupt though? They erupt and do nothing, achieve didly squat but
pain. Why are pain and emotion so hand in hand? Why do I question everything
continuously without answer?
After a cry and a public display of emotion, it’s supposedly
and expectedly out of your system and you move on to the burial. Why do we
bother burying bones? Again, we are wasting are stupid time. That person is
already gone and doing this will do nothing but erupt further emotions. The
bones will soon disintegrate to nothing and their skin, organs and once living
limbs will be eaten by worms and rot and mould to nothing. And now a place set
literally in stone is permanently in the ground for you to go and release your
emotions. When you want to remember and respect that person you go to that
stone cold quiet site. When all it does is bring you pain, you can’t lift them
out the ground because it is just reminding you how they’re not even there,
sure something they once wore or maybe had some kind of possession. Wouldn’t
you be better with that possession or if you could give it to someone who may
appreciate it because really burying it in the ground does no one any good. The
person is dead and not where you think you buried them and now you morn their
possessions. How do you even know their ‘body’ was even in the coffin? How do
you know the grave isn’t miss labelled? How do you know when you send someone
away to be cremated they are actually cremated and you’re not sent dirt or wood
ash? What difference does it make if they did send you dirt? None, it would
certainly benefit the cremation company and the coffin building companies and
they could save money as it wouldn’t be necessary for people to be around so
much and care for them. What a job though, burning people for a living, just
like Hitler. My point being all the people that would ultimately benefit are
the ones who had no relation or connection to the deceased. You send the
relatives of the deceased the dirt in a cup, completely oblivious to the fact
it’s dirt because they don’t understand the truth, they don’t know to expect
it, they go through all the grieving emotion as the human mind does. It’s like
religion, people won’t believe because they don’t have ‘proof’. How do you have
proof they burned your relative and your holding their ashes? How do you have proof
that it’s their bones your standing on top of? How do you know they even died?
Exactly the reason people die in my life all the time. I don’t need proof, I
just need to decide. Is that person to be around or not, if they’re not their
dead to me. They’re not coming back, though if they did it may be in thought
which is exactly the same as if they were really dead, dead. But does anyone
really truly die? I don’t believe they do, because wherever they are, however
they are, they still existed, there was thoughts about them, they were involved
in other lives. God wouldn’t waste a soul like that. If he wanted someone to
die, die he would erase them from our memory, but would that erase all that
they did? Then it would erase everyone back to the beginning of time, back to
nothing. There are so many reasons why God is real and I want to get people to
realise that, but really what difference does it make? God says every life
counts, that every life you touch is special, meaningful and part of a plan.
What fucking plan? We are all just a bunch of people wondering around
aimlessly. We do what we do and we are who we are. We are constant, obliviously
an oxymoron in time. Believe whatever the hell you want; you can’t change or
control what happens in life, do what you want when you can because you can.
Another thing regrets. Do you people not understand regrets
do not exist?! They do not! If you want to do something, recreate the
situation, try again, just do it. For goodness sake, nothing enrages me more
than someone saying they regret something because clearly, they thought about
it and made a decision and if that decision they now decide was wrong and they
would have benefitted the other decision, well too fucking late, you are done,
decision made, live with it, and work with it and from it. What about the
decision to die? We all will in time so does that give us the ultimate control
if we take it on ourselves? No, because for every damn action there is some
kind of reaction, thankyou Isaac Newton. We are still uncertain of what happens
after death, and we are still uncertain of what would have happened in time if
we had not made the decision we now regret. Does that make sense? We are
constantly unsure of things and rely on faith, hence why the word ‘faith’ is
called exactly that. We all need faith, and we all need to believe and pray for
God to have mercy on our souls.
I understand so much and yet I question so much. I state and
think too much. I am just wasting time with this because it’s not intended to
be read. I am not sure what I intended to do with this cynical, incessant
rambling. I believe that to be the reason I am continuing to type this useless
statement because I can for me as a decision over no one else’s control,
essentially the simple logic behind every
action any of us do.
I say I wish to die,
so why don’t I die? I say I wish to cut my brain out to stop my thought, so why
don’t I? Now, the opposite of the equation, help me here and work your way
back. What have I done towards myself that has stopped me from feeling anything
inside? I feel the pain which I cannot says feels well and good because that is
logically two different emotions. It is so hard to explain. I can see everyone
else’s pain and I can choose to do something and react or not. If I react I
will help, make worse, or bring on myself, ultimately becoming involved and
doing something, but I’m not sure what. I don’t want to know what, so I won’t.
I will be selfish and focus on myself like some kind of self-praising
narcissistic person no one likes. By telling myself to react I realise when I
think I am feeling something I am actually not. People have asked do you feel
anything even for five minutes. And I said yes, but I now realise I was wrong,
I pretend I do because that is what is expected in the situation. If I always
act the way the situation is directed, where does that get me? I’ll be
aimlessly floating around, just like our souls supposedly do in heaven if
anyone ever gets there. Even angels fall out of Heaven, and if they fall out, what
kind of hope do the rest of us have? We are all fucked from the moment we are
born. Are we all just to feel and do as much as possible until we die, which we
don’t know when that will be because we have no control! And if we all do as
much as possible, achieve the world, learn, explore, create, imagine, become
CEOs and important big shots or useless celebrities; we still die. We all die
no matter what we do. Why are we trying not to die with all thse drugs and
things? It is obvious dying is a part of life and if intended to happen
regardless so let’s do it! Let’s die! Let’s do something we were actually
meaning to do in life! I believe that to be the meaning of life, to die. As
long as one person, just one person had apart or anything to do with you, your
aim in life was completed. From the second you were born your reason was
self-completed because your mother was expecting you, you came from two people
meeting together. Fuck life is so complicated. And yet, I have written it out
in plain English just for some random act. Nothing to learn from this as it is
all things we should already know. As is everything we ever get taught, if we
can get taught it well how come we don’t already know? We don’t really benefit
from learning whatever we did. If we needed it we would have known it, like
hunger or thirst or communication. How
does a spider know to make a web? How does a caterpillar to spin a cocoon? How
does a lioness to hunt for a lion? And the aimless meaningless list goes on for
infinity. I believe they knew because they needed to know. We breathe because
we need to breathe to stay alive, we learn because we think we will get
somewhere. When that somewhere is nowhere, where do we go? Why don’t we do
anything? Maybe depression is not an illness but a part of life that should
happen because it is meant to. Because depression is now more common because we
are all too focused us are all going around in this circle again that the world
goes around and if we don’t each kill ourselves we end up killing each other?
We kill each other if we die, we kill each other if we intend to or not. On the
inside we are all dead.
I want to die and stop wasting time. I want to die because I
will kill other people. I will kill other people by being alive or dead with
all the decisions I make. What’s that? It’s a circle again! Ever heard of the
saying ‘what goes around, comes around?’, it’s actually what I believe to be a
translation of something God intends us to believe that he will take care of
things if we just live and try to be good. Try to be good. If we don’t try to
be good and we try to be bad, we still die.
As soon as I stop typing it will be like I’m not here.
Mentally I believe I am not here. I believe a lot of things. I think I have
actually already killed myself, which would explain why I can’t die. I can’t
die because I am already dead. I died a few years ago. I didn’t realise it at
the time because it was natural to act in the situation therefore I didn’t pay
attention to the fact I was acting. I notice after situation, I disregard them
almost immediately as if they never happened. Dissociated from things that
probably had an effect of some kind on that person I can’t change because it is
not my decision. Life is decisions. Life
is death. Life is circular. Life is about aimlessly wanting things, and right
now I want to aimlessly crack 3,000 words, so I will ramble further. Do we
aimlessly want things or do we think we want things, we trick ourselves into
thinking we do when really they will not benefit us. This is true as a perfect
example when you’re a child you see something in the toy store and for no
reason you want it. Ten seconds ago you did not know this item existed and now
you’re consumed by it. You don’t get this toy and go home and think about all
the things you could do with it and how helpful it would be. So after maybe
days or weeks you get this toy somehow because you wanted it in life. You play
with it maybe for a day and disregard it the next. All that time wasted. And
now that money you payed and energy is gone, if regretted, too bad. And the
circle repeats itself. Again and again until we want to finish school, we want
to fail school, we want to go to university and study something that we think
will benefit us or please someone else, maybe help someone else? It helps the
teachers by attending and the government by enrolling, somewhere someone is
affected. But how did they become the government or become a teacher? Do we
really need them or can we just act in the situation?
We are all uselessly connected in a circle of death. The
circle I am in now is I have completed my 3,000 words and yet could just keep
going because it would be an endless mixture of words until I die because I
will just keep having thoughts until I die. I will now make the decision to
stop typing and to go to bed to where I will not sleep but lay, be cold, and
stare at the roof aimlessly and ponder more things that will never be recorded
in time. Even this incessant rambling will be forgotten, eventually I will stop
typing and I will feel nothing from completing it as I feel nothing from doing
it. I will then eventually fall asleep; more than likely have a nightmare and
get up and go to work, without a useless thought or emotion of anyone or
anything to do with this typo mess. By choosing how to act and be I will not
now ramble about how I feel nothing at a cemetery at night, how I’m constantly
picking my nails off for something to try and focus on, how I constantly
obsessively pull this rubber band around my wrist as hard as I can to try and
feel something to remind myself I’m dead, and how I really have no idea what
the fuck is going on.
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