Words

I can no longer find the right words. Almost everything I say comes out sounding ridiculous. Because it does not express what I feel. I have not wanted to be here for such a long time. It is becoming unreal. I feel like a prisoner of myself. The reason I am still alive is that I am afraid of death. Otherwise I would no longer be here. Because my decision has already been made. If I spent my days feeling relaxed, it would be different. If I still dreamed of things, it would be different. What does it matter? Living or dying. I cannot do it anymore: setting more goals, collecting more stones. Little by little I see the threads of life, the spider's web in which everything happens, and the illusion of free will arising from its complexity. I have never really landed properly in this life, with roots and foundations. I float through this life and cross everything there is to cross. I have had the chance to experience all sorts of things in this little life of mine. Has it become boring? Enormously. The only thing I would still want now is nature. For the last years of my life, I want nature around me. In all its beauty and harshness. Honest. Nature is honest. Without political agendas, without power games, without lies and pretences, without settling accounts at the end of the month, without promises.

I would rather not wake up again. It is not that I am unhappy; I simply cannot take part in this game anymore. Everyone just plays their part, with life as the backdrop, and I cannot stand it anymore. The only thing I can still become is the absurd hero. I have to train myself to surrender completely to the sick joke we call life. We have a word for it, life, but it says nothing about the experience itself. What is living? Is living being able to choose? Is living free will? Is living love? What does that word 'life' mean? We are all fooling ourselves. Nobody knows what we are doing here, and everyone tries to gain control over something completely absurd. There will never be any answers. Science has an answer for everything today, but when it comes to the real questions there is nothing but complete darkness. Becoming an absurd hero. Surviving my suicide attempt is the most absurd thing that has ever happened to me. Throwing myself into that darkness with such surrender, saying goodbye to everything and everyone, being a hundred per cent convinced I would be dead a few minutes later, and then still being alive. It will soon be four years, and I am still not glad it did not work. Kambo is the only thing that has brought me close enough again to that moment of dying. And so I have to go back to the frog. Get all my anger out.

It is so hard to combine the most ordinary everyday life with my hunger to die. People sometimes say you should live every day as if it were your last. That is complete bullshit. You cannot live every day as if it were your last. People need to be more careful with idiotic quotes and sayings. If tomorrow were the last day of your life, you would start losing it completely. You would stop sleeping. You would not know another minute of peace. Fear would come over you. Panic. Sadness. Anger. Every emotion would pass through you. Living every day as if it were your last. What bullshit. Carpe diem bullshit. Try spending ten minutes convincing yourself that you will die within twenty-four hours. Ten minutes convincing yourself that this is your final day. Ten minutes convincing yourself that tomorrow it is over, that there is nothing left, that death is the absolute end and that afterwards you will never, never, never exist again. We tell ourselves that life is beautiful, but life is horrific. Patterns. The illusion of free will. Duality. Hard. Brutally hard. Life is brutally hard. And life is the story of the living. Once upon a time, a thousand people had cancer and visualised themselves being cured. Nine hundred and ninety-nine died. Guess who wrote the book about how visualisation can cure cancer...

Maybe we should stop pretending that it is fantastic here. And start from there. Instead of all that hope and spirituality and souls and spirits and some fucking shift towards a new kind of consciousness. Goddammit, I do not see the shift. I fucking do not see it. Do you see a shift in the world? Do you see solidarity? Do you see a higher consciousness emerging in the world? Do you see the legalisation of plants that can genuinely help people? Do you see fewer and fewer breakups? Do you see fewer and fewer companies destroying the planet? Do you see fewer and fewer endangered species? Do you see more and more hope? Are you blind? Is that the new humanity? A humanity that fools itself so it can keep sitting comfortably on its sofa? Do we think it is normal that six-year-olds have to wear face masks? We have taken everything away from one another; are we now going to take death away from one another too? Life makes me sick. That word again, life, as if it means something.

All the thoughts you have exist only in the now. All your memories exist only now. The universe is fixed. The story has already been written and I have become an absurd hero watching it all. Although. No. I am not the absurd hero yet. For now, I am still the cowardly hero. I still do not dare to be absurd. But it is gradually becoming time to become completely absurd. Nobody has any answers anyway. People are prisoners of their thinking. They have told themselves a story and cannot help believing it. People think it is their own achievement if they are rich or poor or happy or unhappy. Nothing is anybody's achievement. The story has already been written. Life is like going to see a film at the cinema. The story has already been written. Fortunately there is the illusion of free will, but perhaps we would do better to realise that it is an illusion. You choose nothing. Choosing is like choosing between red and blue while the universe already knows what you are going to choose. Is choosing still choosing if what you will choose is already fixed? Then they are just words again.

Words only have the meaning you give those words. But not just words. Things too. Everything. Everything only has the meaning you give it. The truth is getting closer and closer and I do not know whether I still want to know it. Our brains are self-destructive. Mine is, anyway. Life is a problem that can never be solved. Life itself is the problem. The problem is life itself. That is the real problem. Everything else is bullshit. Everything else is ego. Everything else is people who have told themselves a story and forgotten that it is only a story. And no story is the truth. Every story is a lie. And the more we have to lose, the harder we cling to our story. The emptier we are inside, the harder we cling to our story. The less aware we are of ourselves, the harder we cling to our story. Humans are creatures who can turn a lie into truth like no other. We are all afraid of dying. We are all afraid of losing everything we have. We are all afraid of suffering forever. We are all cowards. We all cling to ideas that we know are lies.

Every night when I go to sleep, I raise my middle finger. Deliberately. I give life the middle finger. I think: you never know whether someone is watching, and whoever is watching is the one I want to give the finger to. Fuck off. If you lived every day as if it were your last, you would go completely mad. If you lived every day as if it were your last, you would have killed yourself a thousand times already. If you lived every day as if it were your last, you would stop taking part in anything. It is terrible to see life as it is. At the moment. Maybe I do not see it all yet. But what I see now is more than most people see. And it hurts like hell. It is terribly hard. It is torture. And I did not even want to be here anymore. I am going to become the absurd hero. Little by little I am going to become more and more absurd. I am going to laugh in life's face. I am not playing anymore.