I’ve read a confession today that made me reflect my outlook in life.
Currently the thought of my existence ending someday is my deepest well of solace. But seeing as my condition is rapidly deteriorating, i find myself being afraid of the circumstances of my end. I witnessed how my Grandma nearly died because of a rupture in her intestines; being poisoned by my own shit would be an ironic way for me to go, i’m already experiencing pain every day; i wish i’d at least get a fast end.
Despite my loving family and the good life i’ve been dealt, i don’t appreciate it, and am still working towards my end with starving my body. Existence just feels wrong to me; and it feels like with the birth of my kid, i just perpetuated the cycle of suffering instead of instigating change.