There's something of a human need in being understood by other people. This is one of the main purposes of verbal communication. But the problem here is that all this shit is subjective.
The word "love". I say "I love you" and you return the sentiment, but how do I know that you mean the same thing I do? How do you know what I meant to begin with? Having an idea about these concepts means that you've dealt with them in some capacity, but you are the only one who identifies them for yourself. Does that make sense?
So here we are, trying to find understanding in those around us, filled with the need to reach out and touch these people, and communicate ideas, but so often we talk and our words fall dead to the ground, because words can only have the meanings we give them. The ideas we try to communicate don't express themselves as words in our minds, though there are words we attach to them, to try to make them relatable. And sometimes it works. We have Democracy. We have Law, and Philosophy.
Fuck. This isn't what I meant to say.
The last time I asked someone if she understood me, the last time I needed to know, she said "i do try. i love you, charlie."
But I know she didn't. And I know she doesn't. And I know why.
Fuck me.
How can we be known? How can I express myself? Why do I feel like I'm fucking insane?
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
Pay Attention
It occurs to me that the chances that I'm going to end up taking my own life are fairly significant. Let's say 90%. Which is what compels me to write about it. A few things should be made clear.
The first is that I am not depressed. Not presently, at least, which isn't to say that I won't be tomorrow, or even in a couple of hours. And this is important, because anyone affected by this death needs to understand that I will not be embarking on his course of action because I feel I have no hope, because I am desperate, or for any of those reasons. Rather, suicide is the only manner we have at our disposal for deciding exactly when we are done with our personal narrative. It's the only method we have for closing the book ourselves.
Following that thought, second: This is not something that will be happening for quite some time. We're talking several decades from now. Indeed, this is something that I'll be sitting down with friends and family to discuss, because it's a big deal. This is not malicious or anything like that, I simply feel the need to own the terms of my life, and by the same token, my death. And discussing it with those close to me will provide the opportunity for goodbyes and closure to be reached before I pass on.
This is not something I take lightly. Though I must confess, I anticipate my eventual return to non-being, it's not something I'm ready to go for just yet. And of course, there's a certain romantic appeal to it. But that's largely because I live in the spaces between pop songs and indie films.
I'm pretty sure I'm the only person I know who muses on suicide more when he's happy than when he's depressed.
The first is that I am not depressed. Not presently, at least, which isn't to say that I won't be tomorrow, or even in a couple of hours. And this is important, because anyone affected by this death needs to understand that I will not be embarking on his course of action because I feel I have no hope, because I am desperate, or for any of those reasons. Rather, suicide is the only manner we have at our disposal for deciding exactly when we are done with our personal narrative. It's the only method we have for closing the book ourselves.
Following that thought, second: This is not something that will be happening for quite some time. We're talking several decades from now. Indeed, this is something that I'll be sitting down with friends and family to discuss, because it's a big deal. This is not malicious or anything like that, I simply feel the need to own the terms of my life, and by the same token, my death. And discussing it with those close to me will provide the opportunity for goodbyes and closure to be reached before I pass on.
This is not something I take lightly. Though I must confess, I anticipate my eventual return to non-being, it's not something I'm ready to go for just yet. And of course, there's a certain romantic appeal to it. But that's largely because I live in the spaces between pop songs and indie films.
I'm pretty sure I'm the only person I know who muses on suicide more when he's happy than when he's depressed.
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