I am holding death in my hands.

we stand here, on the brink of insanity.
and we have death in our hand.
we dont remember how we got here.
we dont know why we are here.
but death is our end. -that or insanity.
of course, our logical self can agree that we could heal.
but we are not sure.
our other self knows that he wants to live. but the pain.
the pain is driving us over.
we are lost. we have no hope.
no! i can be free.
we are broken. but not the chains.
i can break them.
we are beyond saving.
i can heal.
we are never going to heal.
death is betther than this half ife.
no.no.no.

hope to hear from you soon brother

this is a conversation that i had between myselves.

i don't understand. sorry coiuld you please clarify.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to make light of the struggle within yourself. I think we all have to wrestle with what in us to one degree or another. But. There is a philosophy that considers death as being closely related to poop, so, I can't read this title without thinking... "Ewww! Fling it off!"

YES!!! ii love that association.
eeeww.. shower time.
and really this would simply be a thought experiment, except that i had this here..... i do stupiid things at night.... but then again, dont we all?