Why do humans exist, if not to fear? Why do we exist, if not to exist in perpetual torment? If we exist in perpetual torment, why do we aim to end that torment? If we aim to end that torment, why not simply end ourselves?
If we aim to end torment through the end of ourself, why not use the kitchen knife your brother once threatened to use on you? Why not first use your fists to pay him back tenfold? No, because you can't, you are much weaker, that's why his fists hurt. Okay, but what about your sister? No, because she, too, is much better than you. Far superior, stronger, and better. And she doesn't mind pointing out all of your fallacies. You fear her, yes, but also seek validation from her. Just one word of praise. Even when she gives praise, it is concealed in a thousand insults that Band-Aids could never heal. You're too fat, you copy other people too much, you aren't original enough, you're not really gay, or bi, or pan, or abro, you're just jumping on the bandwagon. Oh, you're genderfluid? That's great, but she doesn't think that one of your genders exists. And now your brother is gone, gone with the wind. And now your sister and you are talking more, and her barbs hurt more. And so what that you keep sleeping super-late, and have no interest in doing all of the activities you used to love, and suddenly act happy all the time, and want to change your physical features drastically, even though those are symptoms of depression, you can't talk about that because your parents see that as a direct attack on them. Oh, you have anxiety, so what? You're afraid to do anything, and how is that their problem, get over yourself. Ooh, you met a guy on line who you were developing a crush on. Oh, wait, that's your best friend catfishing you. Oh, your brother came back. Then he left again. Then he came back after a call to DHS after he did something unconfirmed to a child, and you don't want him to go to jail, but you also will have to tell the truth, and there are some things in the past with him that won't look so good. Oh, and also, everyone in your family except for you is sick with COVID several years after the original lockdown, which was tough enough what with the sudden loss of contact with all of the people in your life that made it worth caring about, and now you're in an even smaller lockdown. Can't touch the banister on the stairs, your sister touched that. Gotta be careful with the table, she eats there. Gotta be careful in the kitchen, everybody goes in there and touches all sorts of things. And you're running out of things to eat for breakfast and lunch, so you stop eating to preserve food. Then there's your seasonal allergies, and the cough drops that come along with them, which you also have to be careful of because your sister uses them too. And all of this is happening as you're stress-eating because there's nothing else that calms you down the same way., but now you aren't eating anything, and your body is not happy with the change, and it hurts, all the time, all the time it hurts. And the tendons in your arm get one of those bad cramps they get every few months, don't worry, it'll be gone in a week, even if during that week you feel like you're dying. And then you're watching a novie in theaters and see a dark thing move, which makes you think, is it my dog, Babe, but then remind yourself that she died earlier this year thanks to a tumor. And then your brother comes to you because he wonders why he does anything, and you have to play therapist to him and support him even though you don't entirely side with him. And this whole time your thoughts are getting dark, and you think that you're going insane because you keep seriously debating murder when you get mad. Plus all of these old memories keep getting dredged up. Coal, your grandparents' dog that died when you were eight after he ran away, right into oncoming traffic, and he was the same age as you, in human years anyways. And then even farther back, to your stepfather, and how one time when you were young and he was drunk, but he was a stable nice drunk, but he was wrestling with you, and you totally flipped out, shouting and screaming your head off for a reason that you don't know, but now you're wondering, especially since he got really mad when you did that. Then it goes even further back, to your biological father, the lying cheating bastard of a man he was that couldn't even be bothered to show up at your birth, since he was too busy diddling some redhead named Rachel. And then he had a heart attack, good riddance. But, oh my god, what if you have a heart attack, and you die? Actually... Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe then your mother and stepfather won't be embarrassed whenever they go out and public. And you know where the knives are. But you don't want them to catch you, because then they'll stop you, and you don't want that, you want your blood to coat the floor, you want to die. So you set your alarm for midnight. And now it's time. You're ready. You have the knife, you have the gun if the knife is too dull, but you did sharpen it so that shouldn't be a problem, but still, should always come prepared. And then you cut. And it works. You're bleeding out. You smile. You'll finally be at peace. You blackout for a few minutes, but when you come to, you're being raised into an ambulance. You vaguely remember seeing snow and deliriously saying "I made it to Hell. I made it to where I belong," before blacking out again. The next time you wake up is in the hospital. There are bandages on your wrists. You see them already soaked in blood. Who knew that wrists bled that much? It would've worked, you would've been at peace. But no, you learn that your mother had to intervene. When you get back home, you aren't allowed near anything lethal, or any weapon of any sort, or anything that could be weaponized, at least not while you're alone. And your door is locked at night now, locked from the outside only. And now you've given up. You can never have peace, you will be forever stuck in this miserable game of torment and fear. And if death is the "win condition," then you can't even use cheat codes. So you give up trying to die, because what's the point, someone will just stop you.
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Sorry, I did go a little over 1000, but I was in vent mode, and there's not a lot that can be taken out and have it still make sense. No one thing is unimportant enough to remove.
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