I have been shedding vices as part of my self improvement project. This is all in spite of my primary vice, my oldest vice: indifference. I have done these things basically as a fight with myself because I felt stagnant and stationary in my life. I felt I should at least try to not kill myself, and maybe try to change things. So I have. Some few things have changed. Even still, nearly every night where I have enough time to be alone and aware of my own thoughts gives me an oh shit moment that immediately spirals into a dark night of the soul where I feel completely alone and hopeless. I feel, and truly believe that I will never be content, let alone happy no matter what I do. I believe that those things are literally not possible based on how I’m wired. Maybe there’s moments where I feel happy or laugh, but it is always very temporary. My own brain is trying and will probably succeed in killing me. I am just fucked. The self-loathing, the hatred, the abuse, the rage, none of it will ever go away. I fucking just want to die, all over again. Every fucking day. Every minute. The best I can do is ignore it temporarily and be in the moment for as many seconds as possible until my brain reminds me that nothing is ok right now.
It’s always there, in the back of my brain when it’s not in the forefront. Nothing I have done so far has made it go away. I did drugs for over a decade because I just couldn’t handle being consciously awake. Now that I’ve been clean for over two straight years, sometimes I’m right back where I was years ago. Not sometimes, I know I am. The only coherent expression I have for what I feel other than these empty, pointless fucking meaningless words is pure, unfiltered rage. I rage at everything. I rage at myself, how I want to die and can’t do anything about it, I rage at the past, the pointlessness of the future. I rage at the pointlessness and insanity of human society and our eventual permanent dirt nap and the final heat death of the universe. I have succeeded only in changing my outward appearance. Every day I feel terror at the fact that I feel like a fucking insane person inside and there’s nothing I can do about it. The meds don’t fix that, the meds can’t fix that. I’m just going through life because I don’t have the courage to actually kill myself. Every time I drive down the road I secretly wish the car going by will come into my lane and wipe me out. Is it a secret? I try to keep it even as a secret from myself. I don’t, though. I can’t. The only escape right now is focusing on editing the copy I’m shitting out right now.
This is why I’m indifferent. Nothing changes. Nothing ever has. I’m still who I was before. I’m always going to be this way. I’m always going to want to die. It’s not sexy, it’s not sad, it’s not interesting. It is simply inevitable. I don’t know how to explain this to people. I just want to not exist. I just don’t want to have to think ever again. It is exhausting, and I don’t know how to stop, ever. I can’t stop thinking unless I am fully unconscious. I just want to sleep and not ever wake up. I just want this shitshow to end. If I can manage to just not care about how I feel then I can survive another day and not kill myself. At least that way I won’t let down my friends and family. It doesn’t matter. I just have to stay as busy as possible so I can’t dwell on it or think too much, until Death, in its infinite mercy, decides to take me.
The student Doko came to a Zen master, and said: “I am seeking the truth. In what state of mind should I train myself, so as to find it?”
Said the master, “There is no mind, so you cannot put it in any state. There is no truth, so you cannot train yourself for it.”
“If there is no mind to train, and no truth to find, why do you have these monks gather before you every day to study Zen and train themselves for this study?”
“But I haven’t an inch of room here,” said the master, “so how could the monks gather? I have no tongue, so how could I call them together or teach them?”
“Oh, how can you lie like this?” asked Doko.
“But if I have no tongue to talk to others how can I lie to you?” asked the master.
Then Doko said sadly, “I cannot follow you. I cannot understand you.”
“I cannot understand myself,” said the master.