Application for voluntary death

Suppose there was a thing like that, what would the criteria be? Who would process the application forms? What would their day be like? “Hello honey! Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, I approved 14 inquiries, and some of them darling were quite troubling, if I may say so. Luckily most of them applied for sudden death, so they don’t need to suffer knowing when it’ll happen. Actually we’re in contact with a new hit man, he seems pretty darn funny! I hope I’ll get to work with him planning a few of the terminations!” …


I objectively want to die

I’ve thought about it long and hard. For many years, actually. I see that my decision has been influenced by my subjectivity to the matter, of course it has! But now, I think I have come to the point where I can make an objective choice. Or, I don’t just think, I know. I am making an objective choice, to die. It’s based on facts not feelings. 

  • My life is not worth living, because I have no real feelings, they are all some sort of bullshit: when I’m feeling happy, I don’t feel happy, I think and know happy. When I love someone, I don’t feel love towards them, I think it. 
  • I am a narcissistic psychopath (this doesn’t mean that every narcissistic psychopath should die, or that they can’t have a good life, it just means that I can’t have a good life as a narcissistic psychopath): the meaning in life for me lies in making a difference, and caring about others, as I cannot feel for others, that only leaves me with making a difference, but I cannot make a difference when the only thing I’m occupied with is me, myself and I. 
  • I am ugly (OK, I’m gonna be real honest, I don’t know where that came from, but it stays, it sounds objective to me that that should be a fact for me to die).
  • I have no value.
  • The people I’m surrounded by in my everyday life will be better off without me: my therapist will have room for a new patient, that will benefit both my therapist and the new patient; my family will have one less gift to get for Christmas; my colleagues don’t have to look at me during their work-day and they’ll have more work to do, this will make them feel more at peace and like they have more of a purpose; etc. etc. 

So, as you can see, this choice is not driven by subjective feelings, and whims. It’s thought-through and logical, reasonable, and objective. 

What am I gonna wear?! How to fake a smile!?

It’s been 919 days since my last day of school. Two and a half years. That’s a long time, at least for someone my age. I dropped out in the middle of the year. At first it wasn’t even dropping out it was just a break, sick leave. But then the school year ended, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to come back yet. I guess that makes it dropping out.

 This was some kind of boarding school, and it was at night it happened. Some friends of mine was worried, and it ended up with the house matron (wtf, this doesn’t translate very well) calling an ambulance. So I rode into the dark winter night with a colorful summer dress on, I didn’t even bring socks or a toothbrush or even my phone. I suppose this was the start of the hospitalization-hell that became my life the following years.

Since this happened school’s been so far away from my life. I haven’t been heading anywhere. Or that’s what it’s felt like at least. It’s been 919 days since my last day of school, but tomorrow I’m starting again. And hell I don’t feel like I’m heading anywhere now either. This course I’m taking is far away from studying full-time, or even half-time. I’m not gonna be something at the end of this. But if I take a moment to think about what I’ve just written … If I give myself some slack and acknowledge the struggle therapy and getting better is: Oh hell yeah I’m heading somewhere! The few hours I’m gonna sit in that library tomorrow is more than enough proof that this isn’t only hospitalization-hell anymore.

It’s definitely still a struggle, but now there’s another side to it as well. Wish me luck.

Not being honest about shit (I use that word way too much, sorry, forgive me)

I’m gonna write a positive post. Not because I’m happy, or positive in any way. Not because I finally got some hope to hang on to, or because I’m feeling optimistic about the world, or the future. Not because I’m so grateful I just flow over with emotion, and feel like I should write a cheerful post. But because I’m so low, I don’t know what to do. And doing the opposite of what I want to do, might do me some good. Because the world (as I said) is shit, and a happy list (or whatever) might add to the shit … or might cheer me up, though I feel as if I’m so low no one could reach me here.

GOOD THINGS (I think I have to throw up!)

  • There are friends
  • Colors can look beautiful
  • Nature
  • Cocoa
  • Grandmothers (ambivalent, but yeah)
  • Pepsi Max
  • Candy (though it makes you fat, and being fat sucks, but it doesn’t suck over candy being good, if you getme?)

(and at this point I’m struggling to find any more things, but I know there has to be more, so I’m gonna push-push-push to find some more)

  • (OH HOW COULD I FORGET!?) Great bloggers, and blogs (!!)
  • Band-aids
  • Cameras

(I’m so bad at this! Five more, five more!)

  • Lists (or?)
  • Lotion (I guess?)
  • To sleep! … in your own bed, with six pillows and the best mattresses ever
  • Amazing books (mark my words, not books in general, amazing books, though since this list was about good things, I’m gonna assume that good books, would do the trick too … but … no, whatever)
  • Puppies

Why is the world spinning? Today it felt like I was semi-dissociating, that was messed up, like what the fuck? I was halfway in my head. People laughing outside my door  makes me sad, upset, want to … Wow, sorry, did I say this was gonna be a positive post? I’m just gonna end it now, before I say another word about how I feel.

Tudelu ♥

Fuck the world. Fuck everything. Damn, I wanna cry/die.

Dreaming of tomorrows

I had a dream that I could touch someone, with my words. I had a dream that I could capture people and take them with me into a world where there was love, and hope.

I used to have this dream, when I was younger. When I was still hoping for a better tomorrow. (Jeez, do you need to be so dramatic!?)

I early figured out I loved writing. I put a lot effort into the stories and essays we had to write for school. It was easy. The ideas just came flowing, without effort. The words just lined up. They came spilling out of my fingers, and there were rarely breaks in the flow. I don’t know where the creativity came from. But it felt like I was home. Like I was doing what I was supposed to do. Mind you, I was only 13, and what I wrote wasn’t really good. But it didn’t matter then. What mattered was that it felt right. The feeling of capturing someone with my words, it was amazing. So I dreamt.

Another thing that was important to me already then, as long as I can remember really, was helping others. To take advantage of my opportunities to mean something for someone else. To use every moment I had in others’ lives to make it better. To be someone who made others feel good. Maybe it had to do with me feeling worthless, and having to make others feel good to be worth my place in this world, or maybe it was because I knew how little it took to make someone’s day, or break someone’s day. So I dreamt.

I had a dream that I could touch someone, with my words. I had a dream that I could capture people and take them with me into a world where there was love, and hope. I dreamt of making a difference with my words. I used to think that if I wrote, and what I wrote changed one person’s life, it would all be worth it. There are politicians and people of organizations that spend their days working for a better tomorrow, changing the world little by little. And I wanted to do that. But not by laying down a law, or by traveling to famine struck countries in Africa or Asia, but by finding the words that could reach into someone’s soul, and make them realize that it’s worth it, and you can make a difference

I’ve forgotten what it felt like dreaming like that. I have this strange, vague remembrance of it feeling good. I’ve forgotten what it was like to believe in the future.

You make me brave

I know I got nothing more to add
to all those old clichés
I never thought I would be
one to feel this way
All I’m really giving you
is my story and a tune
but if I could, I know I would
catch you the moon

When I first met you
I had tears sparkling in my eyes
“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine”
all I said were lies
You banged on my door and tried to break in,
I tried to break out
“Go away, go away, go away, go away”
I couldn’t hear my heart shout

You pushed harder when I pushed you away
You asked my secret and promised you’d stay
I wish you’d told me it would all be okay
’cause I was, I am afraid

Beside you I wanna breathe
with you I wanna keep standing on my feet
beside you I wanna live
I wanna show you it’s worth it
Now I think I wanna dance
Now I think my life is worth a chance
I’m still afraid
but you make me brave, yeah you make me brave

With you in my days
my face is covered up in smiles
I laugh, I laugh, I laugh, I laugh
I feel like I can go for miles
You tell me your stories
I tell you mine
Now I swear, I swear, I swear, I swear
It’s not a lie when I say I’m fine

You pushed harder when I pushed you away
You asked my secret and promised you’d stay
I wish you’d told me it would all be okay
’cause I was afraid, I am afraid

Beside you I wanna breathe
With you I wanna keep standing on my feet
Beside you I wanna live
I wanna show you it’s worth it
Now I think I wanna dance
Now I think my life is worth a chance
Yeah, I’m still afraid
but you make me brave, yeah you make me brave

© Marie Olivia

I want to go

I don’t want to hurt you, but I want to go. You want me to keep on going in the pattern that is usual, that is normal, because then you can keep on believing that there is progress; you can keep on believing that I haven’t fallen outside the system and outside society. You want me not to go because then you can be safe, then you can be in control. I don’t want you to judge, be unsafe or worrying, or even missing me, but I want to go. I can stay, keep on going, get old, reminisce about the past, but I want to go. I can stay while I wait for death, but I want to go. I want to go because I believe in life. I don’t want to live half way, because that’s not life. Life is full and whole. I believe in a life where you’re alive. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want you to spend time wondering and worrying, but I want to go. Live knowing that I am better now. I don’t want to be in a prison where I’m just waiting to die .. therefore I’m going. Don’t be afraid. I’m not alone, but I want to go. I want to find life.

I wrote this October 2011, which is nearly one and a half year ago. I still want to go. I never did. I was too stuck on living by the rules. The only way I would ever break them was to write something like this. But this was real, and it still is. The only difference is now maybe I’m brave enough to go do. I want to go, I want to find life, and be alive.