Re: How Was Your Day?
I have been thinking a lot about suicide lately. Not wistfully – I no longer have the passion for life to be excited about death – but as some inevitable event waiting for me in the distance, and as I watch it approaching me, however slowly, I feel no relief, shame or fear, but rather an overwhelming wave of indifference; an aggressive form of boredom.
I have lost all thirst for art, a supposed, if twisted, reflection of life, and even the magic of the reverse where life somehow imitates art I find to be as shallow as the source material. All art is really quite pointless, as is reality. It tires me. Everything does, I suppose. I think I need rest.
Did I post that? Does it matter?