Can we just get straight to the point instead of rambling?

I'm shitting myself—honestly, I am.

I’m just dreaming of being somewhere far away from this absolute nightmare.
Honestly, if you haven't lost your mind yet, you're probably not even human.

Who actually gets to decide—around here—who defines what a place is? Or even what an idea or a concept means?

wearyrider16 said:When is suicide actually considered a rational choice?

Or is it always viewed as a defeat, a surrender, or just plain cowardice?

Keep it brief, please.

Joseph Bailey41 said:That depends on if you're a Japanese person. 🤷

Why would a kamikaze pilot need to wear a helmet? 😁

Because of the delay... or maybe even, if you want to call it that, "indulging" in suicide

wearyrider16 said:When is suicide actually considered a rational choice?

Or is it always viewed as a defeat, a surrender, or just plain cowardice?

Keep it brief, please.

Honestly, it takes a certain kind of courage to go through with it. But at the same time, it’s also the path of least resistance.
In my opinion, the bravest thing you can actually do is stay and fight. That’s how we find out just how much strength we really have tucked away inside us.
There has to be something—anything at all—that makes life worth the struggle.

If nothing else, it’s worth living just to see a flock of birds in flight, or to catch a sunset over the horizon while nature puts on a show.

Like that one song says: what does time even matter when people aren't made of stone?

Assisted "suicide" is nothing more than a sanitized label for "humanitarian acts," much like seppuku, cult mass suicides, KKK lynchings, cannibalistic killings, rituals, wars, and the Holocaust.

Why do these kinds of ideas even cross my mind

Carl Rivera43 said:If nothing else, it’s worth living just to see a flock of birds in flight, or to catch a sunset over the horizon while nature puts on a show.

Like that one song says: what does time even matter when people aren't made of stone?

I agree. Honestly. There’s such a profound beauty in it that truly lifts your spirit.

What kind of satisfaction is there in watching a sunset or listening to birds sing when you basically need a prescription just to function?

Nothing really matters if you aren't healthy.

Even if you owned the whole damn world, it wouldn't mean a thing.

wearyrider16 said:What kind of satisfaction is there in watching a sunset or listening to birds sing when you basically need a prescription just to function?

Nothing really matters if you aren't healthy.

Even if you owned the whole damn world, it wouldn't mean a thing.

Hmm. Well, you could try to temporarily "forget" about the illness and shift your focus
toward the beauty of it all. Just let yourself go completely.
Think of it like a form of meditation, where you let go of all those internal thoughts (and even your own identity) to just merge with the beauty around you. You immerse yourself. You become one with it.
Haven't you ever experienced something like that?

wanderingmoose13 said:Hmm. Well, you could try to temporarily "forget" about the illness and shift your focus
toward the beauty of it all. Just let yourself go completely.
Think of it like a form of meditation, where you let go of all those internal thoughts (and even your own identity) to just merge with the beauty around you. You immerse yourself. You become one with it.
Haven't you ever experienced something like that?

How are you supposed to merge with anything if you don't have thoughts or an identity to begin with? How do you even know something is 'beautiful' without those things?

ironrider11 said:How are you supposed to merge with anything if you don't have thoughts or an identity to begin with? How do you even know something is 'beautiful' without those things?

Have you seriously never meditated before?
I mean, haven't you ever just felt this deep sense of connection to everything around you—where there isn't a single thought running through your head except for the sheer beauty of the moment, or the sound of some music or birds chirping that you just completely lose yourself in?
In those moments, I totally forget who I am. I just become part of that beauty.

wanderingmoose13 said:Have you seriously never meditated before?
I mean, haven't you ever just felt this deep sense of connection to everything around you—where there isn't a single thought running through your head except for the sheer beauty of the moment, or the sound of some music or birds chirping that you just completely lose yourself in?
In those moments, I totally forget who I am. I just become part of that beauty.

I've given it a shot. A little bit. But I've never hit that "losing my identity" thing. Honestly, I don't even think "ego death" counts as losing your identity. There's always some kind of "identity" present, right? Some "something" or "someone" there to perceive and register the experience. Otherwise, wouldn't any realization about "beauty" or "oneness" be completely meaningless... because there'd be nobody there to experience it?

ironrider11 said:I've given it a shot. A little bit. But I've never hit that "losing my identity" thing. Honestly, I don't even think "ego death" counts as losing your identity. There's always some kind of "identity" present, right? Some "something" or "someone" there to perceive and register the experience. Otherwise, wouldn't any realization about "beauty" or "oneness" be completely meaningless... because there'd be nobody there to experience it?

The sense of identity—and even the very thought of it—is really just a construct. If the mind keeps rebuilding it over and over, or constantly checking in to see if it's still there, then it eventually just fades away. It disappears. I don't know if there's some lingering 'identity' during those moments that I just fail to perceive, because my focus is entirely on the birds, the trees, or whatever else happens to drift into my consciousness. In those moments, I am not 'me'; I am simply the space through which all of this flows. What I feel during those times (this sort of reaction to beauty) isn't 'mine,' and it doesn't have anything to do with who I am. What usually snaps me out of that state is seeing another person who might try to start an interaction with me. It drags me right back to 'normal,' and honestly, it's incredibly jarring. It feels like being plunged into ice-cold water. My dog probably senses it too; he'll start barking or tugging at my sleeve to get me moving, which gives me the perfect excuse to cut off whatever autopilot conversation I'm having and keep walking. Once I'm somewhere private, I have a chance to slip back into that state—to "talk" to the birds, the trees, the clouds, or the mushrooms... I'll "ask" them if I can pick them, and I feel like I get an answer.

In the city, this would only happen when I was as lonely as Jesus. During seated meditation with my eyes closed, it never happened. Out in nature, though, all I have to do is let go—basically, stop trying so hard to be 'me.'

(Sorry for the tangent, this turned out way longer than I intended. 😢 )

ironrider11 said:I've given it a shot. A little bit. But I've never hit that "losing my identity" thing. Honestly, I don't even think "ego death" counts as losing your identity. There's always some kind of "identity" present, right? Some "something" or "someone" there to perceive and register the experience. Otherwise, wouldn't any realization about "beauty" or "oneness" be completely meaningless... because there'd be nobody there to experience it?

It’s really more about being completely absorbed in the feeling of belonging to a much larger picture.
Think about those moments when you're studying so intensely that you lose all self-awareness because you're just so deeply immersed in the subject matter that you forget yourself and everything else around you.
It’s like when you’re swimming and instead of focusing on the chatter in your own head, you just feel the silky smoothness of the water, the temperature, the sounds, the way the light dances underwater, the rhythm of your breathing...

Joseph Bailey41 said:The sense of identity—and even the very thought of it—is really just a construct. If the mind keeps rebuilding it over and over, or constantly checking in to see if it's still there, then it eventually just fades away. It disappears. I don't know if there's some lingering 'identity' during those moments that I just fail to perceive, because my focus is entirely on the birds, the trees, or whatever else happens to drift into my consciousness. In those moments, I am not 'me'; I am simply the space through which all of this flows. What I feel during those times (this sort of reaction to beauty) isn't 'mine,' and it doesn't have anything to do with who I am. What usually snaps me out of that state is seeing another person who might try to start an interaction with me. It drags me right back to 'normal,' and honestly, it's incredibly jarring. It feels like being plunged into ice-cold water. My dog probably senses it too; he'll start barking or tugging at my sleeve to get me moving, which gives me the perfect excuse to cut off whatever autopilot conversation I'm having and keep walking. Once I'm somewhere private, I have a chance to slip back into that state—to "talk" to the birds, the trees, the clouds, or the mushrooms... I'll "ask" them if I can pick them, and I feel like I get an answer.

In the city, this would only happen when I was as lonely as Jesus. During seated meditation with my eyes closed, it never happened. Out in nature, though, all I have to do is let go—basically, stop trying so hard to be 'me.'

(Sorry for the tangent, this turned out way longer than I intended. 😢 )

Joseph Bailey41, if you weren't here, we'd have to invent you from scratch! 🙂 🙂

wanderingmoose13 said:Hmm. Well, you could try to temporarily "forget" about the illness and shift your focus
toward the beauty of it all. Just let yourself go completely.
Think of it like a form of meditation, where you let go of all those internal thoughts (and even your own identity) to just merge with the beauty around you. You immerse yourself. You become one with it.
Haven't you ever experienced something like that?

Those are all just little tricks that don't last long enough to reach that deep, primal instinct for the beauty of life I'm after.

Nice try, though.
But it's not quite enough.

wearyrider16 said:Those are all just little tricks that don't last long enough to reach that deep, primal instinct for the beauty of life I'm after.

Nice try, though.
But it's not quite enough.

I honestly think you have a real gift for writing.
I really love your poems. Honestly, maybe you don't even need meditation, because your poetry feels like a meditative state all on its own.
That said, there's certainly no harm in soaking up a sunset or listening to the birds sing.
Don't they bring you some joy?

Anyway, this one is my absolute favorite:

wearyrider16 said:Absent to imagine

Imagined away while others ask me questions, my mind wanders off.
It travels. It listens to my heart. I am not here. I am gone. Something stronger than me takes hold.
Into the far silence, with a deep breath, I vanish. I become a strange sight to behold.
Absent to imagine.
They try to force me back, trying to ground me with loud questions. Right here, right now.
Back into plans, rules, jobs, cliques, material grips, fleeting wars, and the ticking of mechanical clocks.
I am not part of this.
I am running.
I would rather sink into honest darkness than swim in a false light.
My world is far away.

Don't get me wrong, I love the joy of it, but man, I’d give anything to just get a decent night's sleep and actually feel human for once.

What good is art or being some poetic soul if you can't even meet your basic needs?
It’s honestly better to be "normally boring" and have a "simple brain."
You head into work, do your thing, and then just crash into a comfy recliner with the remote in hand.
Those people are happy. Right here, right now, they’re the ones living the dream... I actually envy those little robots. As time goes on, it feels more and more true...

Deep down, there's this incredibly honest part of me—this life inside me—that's constantly screaming to connect with something beyond this material world and stay connected for as long as possible.
Basically, it's the exact same thing you're saying, just frozen in time.
We're talking about the same stuff, just using different words.

Imagine living in your own little bubble for years because it acts as therapy—a way to escape all the lies, the fakes, and the idiots in this whole absurd theater we call life... but then you realize even that starts becoming a burden. I'm just tired of catering to my body, and I'm just as tired of trying to escape it.

And in the end, words still fail to capture it all...

The Little Prince put it perfectly: words are a source of misunderstanding.

If you know what I mean, I guess?!