Reflections on Suicide : The Screams of Sorrow and Death
"The agony of existence weighed against the horror of nonbeing"
Reflections on SuicideThe Screams of Sorrow and DeathThe rain pours down on this cold night in the city. My head throbbing with pain and sorrow. I wander these grey streets, I stumble through the alleys and the valleys which fill themselves with the shadows of death. Reflections of death are all I can see in the puddles as I try to navigate this maze of confusion and loss. Surly I can find a friend among the devils, how could they be more evil than men? I turn my gaze to the night sky and search the endless curtain of stars for an answer, but only the cold replies with a stare, penetrating into my body and soul. Drunk off of black magick, the darkness swallows me completely. I am lost among shadows and illusions of shadows in a world of hatred and fear. How could I survive this nightmare, waking every day hoping it would end - hoping to wake up and realize it was just a dream and to relive my life with the hindsight that pesters me daily. Without hope there is no reason to struggle; no reason to dream; no reason to pick yourself up and try again. And again. And again continually until a sliver of satisfaction may one day seem achievable, even if failure is inevitable and death is looming around the corner.
How can anyone learn to live if they are surrounded by nothing but death? How can anyone learn to love in a world filled with hate?Once the stench of death is upon you there is no return - no more can you retain that identity that you have built up, or tried to build up. Once the body is lost the soul soon follows, to be lost in the shadows of deception and confusion. To be cursed to a new life of insanity and denial; a refusal to accept that bodily life was temporary, but also that life for a soul is forever. And forever they will search for their old body, longing for their old material possessions, their wealth, and their lives. Their greed shall consume them into a new life of sorrow. But rejoice! For a life lost is a life found, and for that life that was just lost we must be grateful that we learned our lessons here on earth to take with us into our next infleshment, where we will retain our lessons continually in perpetual cycles until we will all be one day liberated from this agony and sorrow that life brings about us here. The pain and hunger and insatiable dissatisfaction - lust and love will only turn into loss and sorrow as what we love turns to dust before our own eyes.
Time, that inevitable murderer. This uncontrollable force presses us on as we get older, and wiser, and more senile before our deaths. This fear of death consumes me, but what is there to be afraid of? Surly death is a wonderful thing? A transition to eternal rest? A liberation from the prison of the body? The end of life and suffering only to bring about a new form of living or nothing at all. The torment of existence weighs itself against the horror of non-being. I am now lying on the floor,
drenched in my own vomit and the blood of innocent martyrs; cold, afraid, but still alive. How could anyone survive this ... this torment, this insanity, this repression of memories unforgettable. The horrors of death and their shadows haunt me every day as demons frequent my company only to feed off my depression and sorrow. Maybe that's why I refuse to allow suicide to swallow me whole - though we can't see it, there is a very dark world out there, more horrific than our own. What worse payment for self-liberation from a life of torment than to die and arise in a new life of horror. Woe! Woe to the self-murderers, the thieves of bodies on loan, do they not see what we truly are? Of course not, they have been blinded by lies and hatred and death! I battle myself as I struggle every day to look at myself as something wonderful, as a beautiful organism created to be capable of innumerable things. How many mortal forms can comprehend the order of mathematics and the stars? To construct the great architectural wonders and design the most prestigious forms of art? To speak and write in languages as plentiful as they are each as beautiful and diverse as the flora of the earth? To invent great things and design powerful technologies to bring us even up into the heavens? To think and to be - like having your cake and eating it too. Not even the demons and devils can enjoy such a luxurious life! Without a body how can they live such a life? We are the rulers of the material world, the gods of this sphere! We take up the challenge to suffer life's great pains in order to enjoy life's great pleasures. We stand tall in battle and in peace, against the weather of all terrains, and in times of wealth and poverty.
No, I shall not take my life. My death shall not be my decision, but left to be the decision of fate. For the sequence of fate shall be but a short time yet, and by living here, and trying, and suffering, I might please those forces unseen, that they may enjoy my company not for my sorrow and pain, but for the joy and pleasures of life. As horrific as life may seem at times, the length of pain is bounded by material. When life is no longer bounded by material, that pain is no longer bounded and will last an eternity. So I ask myself, who is up there? Who is looking back at me as I turn my gaze once again to the stars. I ask myself this question but outwardly I project my thought, in hope that there is something out there, listening, and haunting my company. Though I do not hear or see them, I can feel their cold touch on those lonely nights. And that makes life worth living: this eternal mystery. I do not know they are there, nor do I need to, because that is between me and my God."Of all these kinds, the ensouled have roots reaching them from heaven to earth, but living things without soul branch from a root that grows from beneath to above"