When that night was the night?
We didn't stop till it was over
We kept putting our hands up
Because the ceiling couldn't hold us.
The ceiling couldn't hold us.
@Jaye_Eccentriq
16 years
Thursday 10 April 2014
[Untitled]
Can we go back to that moment
When that night was the night?
We didn't stop till it was over
We kept putting our hands up
Because the ceiling couldn't hold us.
The ceiling couldn't hold us.
When that night was the night?
We didn't stop till it was over
We kept putting our hands up
Because the ceiling couldn't hold us.
The ceiling couldn't hold us.
Monday 7 April 2014
Thanatos
So a friend of mine celebrated his birthday last Friday. At first I was like "Mehh it's his birthday today" but after a while I got to thinking: for the past 19 years he's celebrated an anniversary of life, but for each of those 4th of April milestones, someone dies. Someone breathes their last. Someone's soul finds out the degree of verity in all those statements about the afterlife. Someone's mortality catches up to them and spirits them off to posterity.
For the whole day, death was uppermost in my mind. Now I am not usually a morbid person, so it must be hella serious when I get to contemplating death. Especially in the abstract.
As a child, I was never afraid of death. Growing up in an extremely religious household, I was taught that, if you live right and love God, when you die you go to Heaven. Now apparently Heaven is a place where the streets are lined with gold, there are mansions for you to live in (I assume they too are made of gold), you get milk and honey to eat AND you wear white robes all the time and go around playing harps made of....yep, you guessed it. Gold.
Why would I fear death after hearing all that? Come on! I was about 4 or 5, a perfect angel at the time, a good Christian (those were the days I got sad if I didn't go to church) and I adored God and little baby Jesus. So I figured, in my angelic mind, if I died, I'd get all that, including and especially honey (yes, I have an 11-year-old sweet tooth). In my own way I kinda wanted to die, 'cause paradise, honey, gold, honey, music, HONEY...you get the idea.
But now, as an adolescent, full of questions and doubts (and I won't lie, fears), I'm not so sure. It all seems too good to be true. I keep seeking answers and finding none. It's like dangling, but being unable to see what's holding you up.
Once upon a time, 2 or 3 years ago, I hit rock bottom. I was depressed to the point of self-mutilation. I still feel the urge sometimes, but I just can't find my scalpel. I was depressed to the point of wanting to commit suicide. But being the true and complete bibliophile that I am, I remembered a quote from Hamlet:
@Jaye_Eccentriq
For the whole day, death was uppermost in my mind. Now I am not usually a morbid person, so it must be hella serious when I get to contemplating death. Especially in the abstract.
As a child, I was never afraid of death. Growing up in an extremely religious household, I was taught that, if you live right and love God, when you die you go to Heaven. Now apparently Heaven is a place where the streets are lined with gold, there are mansions for you to live in (I assume they too are made of gold), you get milk and honey to eat AND you wear white robes all the time and go around playing harps made of....yep, you guessed it. Gold.
Why would I fear death after hearing all that? Come on! I was about 4 or 5, a perfect angel at the time, a good Christian (those were the days I got sad if I didn't go to church) and I adored God and little baby Jesus. So I figured, in my angelic mind, if I died, I'd get all that, including and especially honey (yes, I have an 11-year-old sweet tooth). In my own way I kinda wanted to die, 'cause paradise, honey, gold, honey, music, HONEY...you get the idea.
But now, as an adolescent, full of questions and doubts (and I won't lie, fears), I'm not so sure. It all seems too good to be true. I keep seeking answers and finding none. It's like dangling, but being unable to see what's holding you up.
Once upon a time, 2 or 3 years ago, I hit rock bottom. I was depressed to the point of self-mutilation. I still feel the urge sometimes, but I just can't find my scalpel. I was depressed to the point of wanting to commit suicide. But being the true and complete bibliophile that I am, I remembered a quote from Hamlet:
"Death, to sleep; to sleep, perchance, to dream..."
And I realized that I'm not at all sure what would happen to my poor messed-up soul were it to be evicted from my body.
Ah, fuck this "not sure" shit. I just don't know a rassclaat. No one does.
Which has me scared as fuck. I've even started asking dead people to come back and dream to me, tell me what it's like because I CAN'T BEAR NOT KNOWING. What murders me even more is that there is one and only one way to find out. Go die. Evict your soul from your body.
Dawg I'm too scared to try. What if I do try, and all those stories that preachers shout at me over the microphone every Sunday or so about Hell are true? I'm honest enough to admit that, if they are true and I die right now, I'd go straight to the lowest, dankest, most awful, fiery pit of Hell. The pit with the most smoke and scorpions and venomous snakes and....ugh...
AND I DON'T WANNA GO 'CAUSE I GOT SINUSITIS AND I HATE SCORPIONS ALTHOUGH THEY'RE MY STAR SIGN AND I'M TERRIFIED OF THOSE CRAWLING THINGS AND I DON'T LIKE BEING HOT AND I DON'T WANNA GET POKED IN THE ASS WITH A PITCHFORK BY SOME EVIL DUDE WITH HORNS AND A TAIL AND HAVE ALL THAT HAPPEN TO ME FOR ETERNITY 'CAUSE I'D SCREAM AND BURN AND SCREAM AND BURN AND EVEN WHEN I GET HOARSE AMMA STILL BE BURNING AND I AIN'T BOUT THAT LIFE!!!!
Sorry about shouting, but that was all real.
They have a word for this. Thanatophobia.
Thanatos: death. Phobos: fear.
I guess that's yet another of my fears. Right up there with snakes [shudders] and God [cowers with Bible atop head].
I can't keep living this way. But I also can't die this way. What a problem I'm in, I'm in.
I have thoroughly frightened myself with the vehemence of my emotions. So next time ole Thanatos sneaks up behind me and whispers "I'm here, waiting patiently for you," I think I'll run away screaming.
Yours thanatophobically,
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