Is death our mother? 

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Honestly, 

What’s the point of living if beyond living there is nothing? Beyond dying there is nothing. I don’t see the point in any of it. There is no “heaven” and the heaven that you think is heaven is beyond the self so the you that you are now won’t be then. You don’t experience “pleasure” you experience nothing. Because there isn’t anything. So to bring yourself out of something is the hardest thing. Maybe the glory is killing yourself. 

Maybe that’s how you reach nirvana… but knowing that dying is okay. So if dying is okay – then why do we wait to die? What do we experience pain, suffering and hate only to die? Yes there is love and goodness and joy – but are those even real emotions? I mean chemically speaking yes. All the neurons fire in the brain to create a release of hormones that create an emotion – so truely what is the point of living if death is the ultimate end. Why do I need to go through this suffering of existing when I don’t even need to be me. 

They say we go through a journey of self discovery – but do we ever find ourselves? Who has turkey found themselves? No one – why? Because no one exists. This is all just a made up world in my mind. It’s my world like the one you’re living in is yours. There is no point in “living” only happening. We only “happen” so why not end the happening before the “projected date” the fate of us all lies in dying. We will all die there is no difference in you or me because we both will die. 

Death does not segregate, does not go unpunished, does not hate, isn’t bias, in a twisted way, it loves everyone equal. Maybe the good die young because death loved them more. If death was a mother, everyone would go to her. But why do we all not? Our ego drives us to be contained in this world – to drive us to end with nothing.

Or if death was our mother were we born from her? Absolutely… we are all made from a death of a star, a death of a tree to decompose to make fertilizer to become another tree – a death of a person to become another person. A cycle. A woman’s cycle, our earths cycle. 

And I’m not upset. I don’t say these worlds because I’m mad or angry or sad. Yes events have brought me here but I’ve been this way since I was a child. I remember being upset at 10 years old. For reasons I could never explain. I was in therapy since I was 8-9 and I could never get it “right”. So honestly is a chemical imbalance that you people stay here? Or that I’m still here? What was the first person that came to be say – hmmm I think living is good so I’ll make more. Was it evolution or God? Could it have been both? Are we puppets to a game to inhabit a planet for a few centuries while a slower race (not mentally but timely) measure our chemical reactions? 

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The Little Psuedo-Sibling

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It’s like a little sibling that isn’t really there, at least that any one else can see. But you know. It’s like a voyage to another world with this singular mind that has a companion. Yet the mind is expansive – how else could it create this false world? 

In objectivity, the sense of the other stays. Here is my sibling. My other mind in which argues with me. In which neither really exist. Yet I listen to our banter – or is it their banter? Is it me that I’m agrueing with? Or am I watching the argument? 

So I watch. Both subjectivity and objectivity. Who is who? Complain about this, yet in the same breath award the thought. Yes, this is a good idea – but don’t actually do it because it’s stupid. Wait, what? 

I’m trapped in this confusion. This mind that thinks even know someone is reading this blog to plot against me – and I’m not talking about a sibling reading my diary, the paranoia goes beyond that. Like the police or CIA are reading my words to say yep she needs to be taken out. We can’t afford to let her talk. Or much more eccentric the aliens are reading it from the future saying yep she needs to die before she exposes the secrets. 

I have secrets you see that only me and my sibling share. That I watch being talked about, but that I’m saying. Greater than myself these ideals come to me. Greater than any world or universe. There’s much more meaning than just a thought – it’s beyond the mind capablies – but how do you ask, can I think of it if minds can’t perceive it? Because i don’t exactly “think” it, but I do at the same time. It’s more than a thought. 

And I don’t even know how that flowed to create a compete thought but that’s what I got.