Hmmm...the death of me?
I was thinking of death.
Actually I was thinking of what to do. I was really bored at a point yesterday. Just didn’t feel like doing anything, and yet knew that I hated just lying there. I thought of sleeping, because sleepy is what I thought I felt, but thinking of sleep repulsed me. I was nauseated by sleep.
What was the answer here? What was time now? Every second felt like a weight weighing on me, like a disease asking “How long do you think you’ll suffer and how long will you actually bear it?”
What can I do? What can I do? WHAT CAN I DO?
The answer was simple. So simple that it flitted in my mind without actually even registering for a bit. And I think it was actually 2 or 3 seconds before I paused to go back. Did I just want to die?
And it was strange, and scary. Not scary because death itself is involved, but I realized that death is when life stops. When you cannot go any further, when you cannot do anything, then do you just lie down and stop? And it scared because maybe I may not be ready to die, but death might come because I’ve stopped.
It was a funny feeling. Like a curse almost. If you stop doing, you will die.
[Please bear with this extremely hap-hazard and seemingly foolish chapter. It is just something I wanted to get off my chest as a completely new feeling for me, something difficult to make sense of.]
Actually I was thinking of what to do. I was really bored at a point yesterday. Just didn’t feel like doing anything, and yet knew that I hated just lying there. I thought of sleeping, because sleepy is what I thought I felt, but thinking of sleep repulsed me. I was nauseated by sleep.
What was the answer here? What was time now? Every second felt like a weight weighing on me, like a disease asking “How long do you think you’ll suffer and how long will you actually bear it?”
What can I do? What can I do? WHAT CAN I DO?
The answer was simple. So simple that it flitted in my mind without actually even registering for a bit. And I think it was actually 2 or 3 seconds before I paused to go back. Did I just want to die?
And it was strange, and scary. Not scary because death itself is involved, but I realized that death is when life stops. When you cannot go any further, when you cannot do anything, then do you just lie down and stop? And it scared because maybe I may not be ready to die, but death might come because I’ve stopped.
It was a funny feeling. Like a curse almost. If you stop doing, you will die.
[Please bear with this extremely hap-hazard and seemingly foolish chapter. It is just something I wanted to get off my chest as a completely new feeling for me, something difficult to make sense of.]
posted by Sumit at 7:43 AM
2 Comments:
How's it going dude? Nice to see your blog. Hmm...you can get to mine through my profile.
A really novel idea - do we die because we have nothing left to do? Perhaps this is true for those who pass away peacefully in their sleep... maybe the heart just has nothing left to beat for...
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