What If

What if I am not mentally sick after all?
What if it’s my environment that is crazy?

From the moment I was born, I was forced to:

drink this drink
eat this food
dress like this
shit like that
sleep at this time
get up now
listen to this parent
kiss this grandparent
learn this language
walk in a straight line
go to school
read this book
conform to this
abide to that
believe this bullshit
respect the authorities
obey the laws
suck this
lick that
play here
work there
buy this
sell that
vote for this
reject that
live here
die there

The recipe for happiness
Had been set up for me
Years before I was even born
Decades before my parents were born

And now they tell me
That if I’m not happy
It’s because I’m sick
And all I have to do
Is swallow these meds

This world is perfect
Do not question it
Everything was GIVEN to you
You should be thankful

Mankind has evolved
We used to be dumb animals
Now we are intelligent and civilized
The greatest species on the planet

You are FREE
You live in a free country
You are lucky
You are blessed

Thank your God
Thank your government
Thank the experts
Thank your obedient parents

You are free to choose
What kind of slave you want to be
Get a job or better yet a career
Serve this society
Give your energy
Give your life
Give your money

Everything you need can be found at Walmart
Everything you need to know is on your TV
With the Internet you can find friends
With this subscription you can find your soulmate

If you marry you will be loved
If you have children you will feel complete
If you buy a house you will be warm
If you buy insurance you will be protected

You have no reason to be sad
No reason to be anxious
No reason to be confused
No reason to ask questions

Everything has been set up for you
For your own good
Set up for you
Set up

THIS IS A SET UP
I was set up

What if I am not mentally sick after all?
What if I have been forced to adapt to a crazy environment?
And I can’t, I just can’t, because
I was never meant to live like this

I want to leave
Where’s the exit
This planet sucks
I want to get off
I never signed up for this
I trusted you and you deceived me
I asked for truth and you gave me lies
I expected freedom and you enslaved me

If I resist you will kick me
If I say no you will throw me in jail
If I refuse you will take all I have
If I retaliate you will kill me

Stupid society
I hate you
Because you hated me first
None of this is my fault

I could go on forever
This poem has no end
Every day the same thing
Every week the same routine

I’m so fed up
I had enough
I’m going to find a tree
A nice solid branch
A spot to hang myself
I’ll wrap myself up
Inside a protective shell
A sort of cocoon
Where no one can touch me
And I’m going to wait
I’m not going to move
I’m never coming out
Not until you change
And if you can’t
Then I will
And when I come out
I will be unrecognizable
I will be beautiful
I will be free
I will be happy
Because I will leave you
Stupid society
Cruel world
I know my destiny

The End

I’m Not My Body

corpse

Am I my body?  Have you ever asked yourself this?

I’ve never felt that my body was me.  Even as a kid, I remember thinking that my body was just a vehicle.  I was like a little man sitting behind the windows of my eyes, driving my body around.  This was fun.

What is wrong with this world is that it tries to convince me that I am my body.  Where did they get that idea?  What a stupid idea.  I don’t buy it at all.  Not anymore.  I bought this idea for a while, but then decided to reject it.  It didn’t serve me well.  It’s just bullshit.

You can believe whatever you want, but if you choose to believe that you are your body, then this is what your reality will become.  Fun at first, but eventually your life will become a nightmare.  Because there is no hope for the body.

I don’t hate my body, but I’m not in love with it either.  It’s like my car.  It’s useful to move around.  I can use it to manipulate the stuff around me.  It also serves to express myself to others.  But my body is not me, it’s a tool.  A living tool which has an expiry date.

Those who identify with the body live as mortals.  Those who do not identify with the body have a better chance at survival.

Surviving death.  The purpose of life is to survive death.  To become immortal.

Immortality starts with not identifying with the body.

Look at yourself in the mirror and say:  “This is not me.  It’s my vehicle.  And it’s getting older.  It’s slowly dying.  And that’s fine.  I’ll continue feeding and taking care of it but I’m not giving my life to it.  Keeping this body alive as long as possible is not necessarily the recipe for happiness.  My sense of self is located somewhere else.  This vehicle belongs to the earth, and it will stay with it.  I do not belong to the earth and I don’t intend to remain attached to it forever.”

Hanging

sg15-10761

I’m not doing anything useful for society right now.  In other words, I am useless.  And aware that I am useless, isolated and depressed.  But there is something good about this that no one can see.

While I am stuck inside this cocoon, I am getting visions of grandeur.  I’m getting ideas of magnificence that have nothing to do with my old life and my dying self.  I don’t know where the hell those impressions are coming from.  They seem to be of a new me who inhabits a new world, somewhere outside of time.

I know, in a way, that I am just like the guy next door who suffers from bipolar disorder.  I’m also like the one I saw on TV who suffers from schizophrenia.  I could swear I hear voices sometimes.  Voices who say things like:  “I am the future you.  Identify with me.”

Exhilarating, isn’t it!  But no one understands.  From the perspective of earthlings, I am sick.  According to them, I should be “out there” enjoying life.  But I have lost all desire to do the things I used to do, the things that used to make me happy.  I no longer get any pleasure out of those activities.

When someone asks me what is the one thing that would make me happy, the first thought that pops into my mind is:  “I wish I was dead.”  But I have learned not to reply this.  So I just smile and then my interlocutor smiles back and says:  “Just do whatever it is that makes you happy…”

So I have thought of killing myself in order to accelerate the process.  But the next part of the sentence is:  “… as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

Shit.  I have a huge family.  I have a wife.  I have kids.  I know several men who have killed themselves.  Their families still suffer from it today.  So I had to cross this one off of my To Do list.  Still, I realize that I have nonetheless hung myself.  Figuratively speaking.  Like that caterpillar in the picture above.

Society does its best to discourage us from committing suicide, but the mind finds a way.  As if it had been programmed to do so.  The result is what you see in the second phase:  a caterpillar who has hung itself upside down and sealed itself off from the rest of the world.  It WANTS to die.

Doctors, whether physicians or psychiatrists, should know that any human, at one point or another in their life, if mentally sane, will desire to end his life, and that this is not a disease.

So, all I can say is this:  “Thanks for your help, doc.  But you can keep your prescriptions and your pills.  No matter what it says in your books, I know that there is nothing wrong with me.  I am not mentally ill.  I am meta-morphing.”