09-03-2019, 07:18 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-03-2019, 07:44 AM by brienneoftarthshreds.)
Okay so this is for anybody who's still with me, and if you're still with me then I'm so sorry. What I mean is people who are actually believing every bit of my story, because every bit of it is true. If you know that just by reading it as it unfolds, then you're like me. You're yearning for death, and frustrated that you're stuck here. Well here's how I genuinely found a sense of peace in all of it: meditation and yoga.
It's how I make it through everything, it allows me to empty my mind and just be. It's how I managed to find myself despite what on paper has been one of the hardest lives ever lived. This is my thesis, and thank you for reading it.
There really is hope for people with broken souls. Those of us brave or stupid enough to follow everything to it's logical conclusion. Everything ends, and eventually it all turns to dust. We're probably just individual, mostly powerless, lonely people sentenced to live in whatever hell we wind up building ourselves. For me, it's my trauma that I still don't believe I can ever escape. As I write this, I'd be lying to you if I said I wasn't thinking about how suicide is still the most likely way I'll die. I've been sick of living since I was 8, and I'm riddled with illness. Fibromyalgia, PTSD, and ADHD to name a few. I probably have Bipolar Disorder, something proposed by my friend when we started all of this, whatever it's become. That's at least the working diagnosis of the psychiatrist who treated and signed off on my release at the hospital, my ongoing psychiatrist, and at this point myself. It's why I'm constantly either empty or full, completely. By now I hope I've painted enough truths on the wall for anybody who stumbles onto this to come with me, all the way to hell and back. And hopefully it's not quite as painful for you.
There's a bliss in annihilation. The Buddhists and so many others have known that for longer than I care to look up. It's where we're all headed eventually, in some form. Nobody gets to know the face of god, or whether there is one at all. We're all mortal, and the best we get to hope for is something that's become rare: a fulfilling death. Well here's how I turned mine from a snubnose revolver and a spliff at the end of a lonely day to some bizarre fever dream of an intergalactic battle where I somehow got what any survivor is worthy of: a warriors death.
You can probably tell I'm an artist. A musician, specifically. And music has saved my life in more ways than I can recount by now. It's so cliche that I don't have to explain it. I'm not ashamed of being a walking stereotype anymore. I found god on my knees in mud and midnight dew, listening to Planetary, by Rainer Maria, a song that finally explained how I lived most of my life. Of course I'm an atheist still, but what I mean is that I found some semblance of myself that had remained constant after everything. It was literally, the song I was trying to write. The source of my writer's block, in audible form. I'm just going to put a list right here of some of the best anti-suicide anthems that I know, because it's that important.
Planetary, Rainer Maria
3rd Planet, Modest Mouse
The Difference Between Medicine And Poison, Circa Survive
This Year, Mountain Goats
Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of Your Fist, Ramshackle Glory
Always Focused, Tiny Moving Parts
Swan Dive, Waxahatchee
American Weekend, Waxahatchee
People 2: the Reckoning, AJJ
E, Tricot
Depreston, Courtney Barnett
You Were Cool, Mountain Goats
In The Aeroplane Over the Sea
Two Headed Boy, Pt. 2, Neutral Milk Hotel
PUP, Guilt
PUP, Sleep in the Heat
Laura Stevenson, Runner
Laura Stevenson, the Healthy One
Against Me!, We Did it All for Don
Against Me!, True Trans Soul Rebel
Against Me!, Gender Dysphoria Blues
Against Me!, Paralytic States
The Hotelier, Home, Like Noplace There Is
That last one I included as the only entire album because it's an album purpose built to help cope with the idea that nobody knows if there's anything more significant going on in the universe than a bunch of bleeps and bloops. I included a post with a live performance in a separate thread. It's an old concept in music, that to truly get somewhere interesting you have to ask god, or the universe. And to do that, first you need a clear enough question. Once you have that, you'll have your perfect song, which will gather enough momentum for you to perform it. If you do it all the right way, you'll really get an audience with the divine presence behind the human spirit, whatever that may be. A genuine, unique memory of human connection. Ideally to a crowd of people in honor of a friend who didn't make it a la the Hotelier, but a really good piece of art stands alone. Some of the best things I've ever written have been sat on for literal years before I could get them to come out the right way. Those songs started by being performed to a friend or two, and ended up becoming the foundation of my identity at some point after I dropped out of university in a desperate attempt to find myself.
Which brings me back to the night that I agreed to end up writing this post, here, on this particular forum. It's about showing people that there really is nothing to fear. When you get too close to the bad answer of one of life's great mysteries, something will always happen to ground you back to the only reality that exists: the one in front of you. Consciousness is completely malleable if you stress it hard enough, but there's only one place to come back to in the end, and that's your own sense of self. It's a literal law of the universe as far as I'm concerned, and I've been performing neo-pagan rituals for months to summon god from all of this machinery to give me a fucking answer as to what the hell makes everything tick. Well, I'm still an atheist, still low-key suicidal but not remotely in danger of acting or planning to act on it because I've found some strange sense of peace through a combination of philosophy, therapy, yoga, meditation, music, and just surviving long enough to see how consistent it all is. The nihilists were right all along, it's fine to just exist!
By now I don't truly care about proving that I wrote the grand unified theory (it's that electrons are holes in space-time), but it matters for posterity that I mention it here.
HERE'S THE GOOD SHIT: HOW TO HALLUCINATE YR OWN VALHALLA SCENE ANY TIME YOU'RE TOO DEPRESSED TO GO ON
Disclaimer: I have no idea if this will work for anybody else, but I figured I'd put it here for anyone weird and tragic enough for it to actually work for, because that means like me, you've earned it.
Start meditating on that live set by the Hotelier. It's a message to god, and the response is just fucking breathe. There's a song there that can cause you to enter a meditative trance where you see your own funeral. This is the trick: you have to trick yourself into believing that the singularity is within spitting distance of now. For me, this twisted it through a fever dream sequence of variations. I saw myself as a victim of violence, as well as suicide, with all of my friends present to bear witness. WARNING: this in and of itself is hugely traumatic and only really possible for the truly depressed, and upon repeat attempts to visit the moment of their own death. Eventually, I just let my friend's hypnotic prompts that are still kicking around somewhere in my brain paint what I can only describe as a totally dope scene. Here's my shitty attempt to describe how I want to die, and listen up god because you know I'll tell them what you told me if you don't make it happen:
It's how I make it through everything, it allows me to empty my mind and just be. It's how I managed to find myself despite what on paper has been one of the hardest lives ever lived. This is my thesis, and thank you for reading it.
There really is hope for people with broken souls. Those of us brave or stupid enough to follow everything to it's logical conclusion. Everything ends, and eventually it all turns to dust. We're probably just individual, mostly powerless, lonely people sentenced to live in whatever hell we wind up building ourselves. For me, it's my trauma that I still don't believe I can ever escape. As I write this, I'd be lying to you if I said I wasn't thinking about how suicide is still the most likely way I'll die. I've been sick of living since I was 8, and I'm riddled with illness. Fibromyalgia, PTSD, and ADHD to name a few. I probably have Bipolar Disorder, something proposed by my friend when we started all of this, whatever it's become. That's at least the working diagnosis of the psychiatrist who treated and signed off on my release at the hospital, my ongoing psychiatrist, and at this point myself. It's why I'm constantly either empty or full, completely. By now I hope I've painted enough truths on the wall for anybody who stumbles onto this to come with me, all the way to hell and back. And hopefully it's not quite as painful for you.
There's a bliss in annihilation. The Buddhists and so many others have known that for longer than I care to look up. It's where we're all headed eventually, in some form. Nobody gets to know the face of god, or whether there is one at all. We're all mortal, and the best we get to hope for is something that's become rare: a fulfilling death. Well here's how I turned mine from a snubnose revolver and a spliff at the end of a lonely day to some bizarre fever dream of an intergalactic battle where I somehow got what any survivor is worthy of: a warriors death.
You can probably tell I'm an artist. A musician, specifically. And music has saved my life in more ways than I can recount by now. It's so cliche that I don't have to explain it. I'm not ashamed of being a walking stereotype anymore. I found god on my knees in mud and midnight dew, listening to Planetary, by Rainer Maria, a song that finally explained how I lived most of my life. Of course I'm an atheist still, but what I mean is that I found some semblance of myself that had remained constant after everything. It was literally, the song I was trying to write. The source of my writer's block, in audible form. I'm just going to put a list right here of some of the best anti-suicide anthems that I know, because it's that important.
Planetary, Rainer Maria
3rd Planet, Modest Mouse
The Difference Between Medicine And Poison, Circa Survive
This Year, Mountain Goats
Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of Your Fist, Ramshackle Glory
Always Focused, Tiny Moving Parts
Swan Dive, Waxahatchee
American Weekend, Waxahatchee
People 2: the Reckoning, AJJ
E, Tricot
Depreston, Courtney Barnett
You Were Cool, Mountain Goats
In The Aeroplane Over the Sea
Two Headed Boy, Pt. 2, Neutral Milk Hotel
PUP, Guilt
PUP, Sleep in the Heat
Laura Stevenson, Runner
Laura Stevenson, the Healthy One
Against Me!, We Did it All for Don
Against Me!, True Trans Soul Rebel
Against Me!, Gender Dysphoria Blues
Against Me!, Paralytic States
The Hotelier, Home, Like Noplace There Is
That last one I included as the only entire album because it's an album purpose built to help cope with the idea that nobody knows if there's anything more significant going on in the universe than a bunch of bleeps and bloops. I included a post with a live performance in a separate thread. It's an old concept in music, that to truly get somewhere interesting you have to ask god, or the universe. And to do that, first you need a clear enough question. Once you have that, you'll have your perfect song, which will gather enough momentum for you to perform it. If you do it all the right way, you'll really get an audience with the divine presence behind the human spirit, whatever that may be. A genuine, unique memory of human connection. Ideally to a crowd of people in honor of a friend who didn't make it a la the Hotelier, but a really good piece of art stands alone. Some of the best things I've ever written have been sat on for literal years before I could get them to come out the right way. Those songs started by being performed to a friend or two, and ended up becoming the foundation of my identity at some point after I dropped out of university in a desperate attempt to find myself.
Which brings me back to the night that I agreed to end up writing this post, here, on this particular forum. It's about showing people that there really is nothing to fear. When you get too close to the bad answer of one of life's great mysteries, something will always happen to ground you back to the only reality that exists: the one in front of you. Consciousness is completely malleable if you stress it hard enough, but there's only one place to come back to in the end, and that's your own sense of self. It's a literal law of the universe as far as I'm concerned, and I've been performing neo-pagan rituals for months to summon god from all of this machinery to give me a fucking answer as to what the hell makes everything tick. Well, I'm still an atheist, still low-key suicidal but not remotely in danger of acting or planning to act on it because I've found some strange sense of peace through a combination of philosophy, therapy, yoga, meditation, music, and just surviving long enough to see how consistent it all is. The nihilists were right all along, it's fine to just exist!
By now I don't truly care about proving that I wrote the grand unified theory (it's that electrons are holes in space-time), but it matters for posterity that I mention it here.
HERE'S THE GOOD SHIT: HOW TO HALLUCINATE YR OWN VALHALLA SCENE ANY TIME YOU'RE TOO DEPRESSED TO GO ON
Disclaimer: I have no idea if this will work for anybody else, but I figured I'd put it here for anyone weird and tragic enough for it to actually work for, because that means like me, you've earned it.
Start meditating on that live set by the Hotelier. It's a message to god, and the response is just fucking breathe. There's a song there that can cause you to enter a meditative trance where you see your own funeral. This is the trick: you have to trick yourself into believing that the singularity is within spitting distance of now. For me, this twisted it through a fever dream sequence of variations. I saw myself as a victim of violence, as well as suicide, with all of my friends present to bear witness. WARNING: this in and of itself is hugely traumatic and only really possible for the truly depressed, and upon repeat attempts to visit the moment of their own death. Eventually, I just let my friend's hypnotic prompts that are still kicking around somewhere in my brain paint what I can only describe as a totally dope scene. Here's my shitty attempt to describe how I want to die, and listen up god because you know I'll tell them what you told me if you don't make it happen:
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