God, I feel so unsure. It’s like I can’t take control of my life. Maybe I don’t trust myself. That’s it, I don’t trust myself! I don’t trust my feelings. I don’t trust my desires and my urges. I feel that they were put there to mislead me.
My own feelings want to mislead me. That’s horrible! How about my mind? I don’t even know what to think. I want to drink. Get drunk. Pass out. And die, yeah!
This afternoon I took a nap. I fell asleep. I dreamed that I was walking inside a warehouse. Then I must have stepped on something because I was electrocuted. I was being electrocuted and I couldn’t move and I thought: “I’m overpowered and I’m going to die, finally!” And I was happy. Then I woke up.
I wasn’t dead. I never seem to die. Why does death always elude me?
Does my life have something to do with you, cloaked man? I don’t think you can help me. I doubt I can help you. I’m not sure anymore. I don’t trust anything. I feel paralyzed. I should make a move but all I want to do is make a no-move. Just sit here and wait. For someone to come.
But no one will come. I even disconnected the phone. I don’t want to hear it ring. I’m not going to answer anyway. I’m tired of these fake connections. I need the real thing. When I feel like this I don’t want to talk to anyone. I couldn’t talk anyway. My throat is numb. My voice has been disactivated. I’m not even sure I have a breath.
I am lost because the meaning of things was removed today. Does this ever happen to you? Nothing has meaning. Maybe I’m dissociating again. Or derealizating. The environment, the thoughts and the feelings seem unreal. Where’s my reality?
Maybe I’m just lonely. If someone would knock on my door, it would surely bring me back to reality. I need to be touched. Maybe shaken. Maybe slapped in the face or kicked in the stomach.
“What you need is a big strong hand to lift you to your higher ground.”
Now I’m channeling Madonna.
Dad I’m struggling
Just to survive
Mom I’m eating
To have the drive
Bro I’m willing
To take the dive
Sis I’m walking
But don’t arrive
I’m hard working
I really strive
I keep failing
And never thrive
I’ve been praying
Since I was five
God I’m dying
To feel alive
I’ll die too.
I’ll die to you.
I’ll die to you all.
I’ll die to you, all-mighty.
I’ll die to you, all-mighty god.
I’ll die to you, all-mighty goddamned.
I’ll die to you, all-mighty goddamn society.
I’ll fly to you, all-mighty goddamn society.
I’ll fly to you, all-mighty goddamned.
I’ll fly to you, all-mighty god.
I’ll fly to you, all-mighty.
I’ll fly to you all.
I’ll fly to you.
I’ll fly too.
Some people go to bed at night and thank God for all the wonderful things that happened to them during the day.
I go to bed at night feeling disgusted, and also relieved that the day is finally over and then I ask God to please let me die in my sleep.
I have a friend who died in his sleep. His life situation was similar to mine. He was married, in his forties, had four kids and was healthy. He died in 2011.
I had not been in touch with him for quite a while, so one day I decided to do an Internet search using his name to see if I could find any information concerning his whereabouts.
I found his obituary! So then I searched for his sister on facebook and found her. I sent her a message immediately to get some info about the cause of his death. She said he had “heart arrhythmia” and died in his sleep.
I thought how lucky he was. I can’t think of a more pleasant way to die. I wondered if he had actually wanted to die in his sleep or if it just happened unexpectedly.
Ever since that day, I think of him every night before falling asleep and I wish that the same thing would happen to me.
Depressed people will understand. There is nothing negative about death. It is the ultimate metamorphosis of the human being. Of course I believe in an afterlife, so basically I visualize death as some kind of release, where the real me (the soul) detaches from its eggshell (the physical body) and starts a new life. To me, death is a birth.
Every morning I wake up, open my eyes, look around the room and think: “Shit, I’m still here.”
I spent a good part of my life thinking that I would die soon.
Why? Where did this idea come from?
Let’s take a walk down memory lane.
My father. He would often speak about the “end of the world.” He would read on the subject and leave his books lying around the house. I remember one book in particular: The Vision by David Wilkerson.
Wilkerson was an American Christian evangelist. I think I was 13 years old when I read his book The Vision. My father was a firm believer that the Second Coming of Christ was going to happen soon and that we should therefore prepare ourselves for the afterlife and not bother making long-term plans to attain temporal success in the material world.
I was a naive, impressionable boy. My dad’s way of thinking had a profound impact on my thinking. I expected the end of the world to happen any day. I thought more about my death than about my life. I wonder how normal this was — if it was a good thing or a bad thing as I was growing up.
I know one thing. It greatly affected my mindset.
I watched my peers as I grew up and could not understand why they were so preoccupied with the things of this world: school, money, career, prestige. I was concerned with something quite different. My father used to say: “The most important thing in life is your relationship with God.” I believed him.
Today I wonder. What am I trying to prove with my blog? That I have a relationship with God? Am I just trying to impress my father? Am I trying to convince myself and others that this life is unimportant? Maybe this life is more valuable than I think.
My father died in 2004. The end of the world did not happen during “this generation,” as he used to say. He was quite certain that he would live to see the Second Coming of Christ. He didn’t. Or maybe he did, on some other level of consciousness. I don’t know.
Living as though the end is near… does it push me to live fully or does it depress me? I think it does both. It makes me ponder, for one thing. It makes me turn inward. It makes me introspect. It turns me into an introvert. It makes me think that perhaps the end of Daemon will never come… or that it came already.
So many signs:
- the cats
- the crows
- the owl
- the clock
- the near-death experience
- my friend who died in his sleep
- little pin pains in my heart
- detachment from loved ones
- loss of appetite
- age spots
- tooth discoloring
- sleeping more, staying in my room, not going out
- loss of interest in things of this world
- constant thoughts of flying away and going back “home”
- visions of celestial beings
- preparing envelopes for the kids
- saying “I’m dying” whenever someone questions my behavior
- re-converting to God
Eighteen signs. I was born on the 18th. Now I’m dying.
Does a person intuitively know when death is approaching?
Or is this just wishful thinking?
And then the whole blog thing… When I started this blog my purpose was to write it, print it and leave it to my family as a kind of heritage or spiritual inheritance. A kind of summary of “This is what life taught me”. I’m not trying to gain followers and accumulate likes. I’m preparing my luggage. I’m packing up. I’m leaving.
My first blogposts are all about metamorphosis, transformation and death. I can’t get it out of my consciousness. The near-death experience was very vivid. I remember very clearly. The next day I knew. I had died already but was sent back to “wrap things up”. There was no doubt about it. As months went by, my mind stopped taking it seriously, but my soul didn’t.
Today I calculated the age of my death based on the age of death of my father, grandfather, great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather. If the trend continues, I will be dead by the end of next year. I even told my mother a few weeks ago when she came to visit and she replied: “No-no, you look very healthy.”
It’s raining right now. The sky is gray. I hear thunder coming closer. I feel solemn (a mixture of sadness, seriousness and peace), like when you know that something is finished, or… dead. I cannot envision any kind of turnaround at this point.
Is this simply depression or is it something else? I don’t know, but it’s raining harder. The raindrops fall heavily like bullets. I look at our rosebush outside the window. One of the roses is losing its petals to the rain.
It’s raining very hard now. The red petals fall to the ground like drops of blood.
Am I dying or just imagining that I am? I’m not sure if I should publish this or keep it private. I know, I’ll put it in the Impressions category with all my other weird ideas. But this is a biggie. Something has changed in me. I can’t tell the difference between what is real and what is not anymore. It’s all the same to me now.
Goodbye cruel world…
I won’t miss you.