A Suicide Note Inspired, Ironically, By A Strange Dream


Becoming more and more lost by the day.

Do I need a lover?

Maybe, maybe no.

Actually, I don’t need anyone.

I just need a cistern of depression.

I need to have conversations that might lead elsewhere from time to time.

I just need someone to enforce my fantasies upon.

To find appreciation for my effort.

To be the centre of attention.

It’s not that I would do anything to get there.

I’m not a psychopath.

At least, not yet.

But it does seem to help from time to time if I receive the amount of attention I think I deserve.

I know I’m not asking for much.

When I know that there’s so much to be given.

My peers tell me that I dance so well.

But I don’t think any of them mean that honestly.

They’ve taken the notion of friendship, even of familiarity, quite too far.

They’ve mired it in their own need for politeness.

For gentleness, for care.

To be paid attention to.

Mired it so much that if another being were to ask for the truth, they wouldn’t know what it meant.

They’d think that they were saying it.

They’d think that they’d all be like them.

That what was the truth for them would be the truth for everyone else.

It’s not the truth anymore.

It’s one very big lie.

There was this woman I… loved… some time ago.

She appreciated me for my dreams without even understanding them.

I know it is to be expected, to say the least.

I have to concede that some of my cantatas are astounding.

They are.

But judging that all of them will be is stupidity.

Or is it? I don’t know.

It ought to be stupidity.

That’s what I think.

If you don’t think I dance well then tell me I don’t dance well.

If you don’t think I’m doing it right then tell me I’m not doing it right.

Why tell me I am doing it right?

Why egg me on?

That’s not going to teach me anything.

It’s only going to drag me deeper and deeper.

Lower and lower into a spiral of mistakes.

At one point from which I will not be able to recover.

And who will I have to blame?

Only myself.

I cannot blame those who lied to me.

I can blame only myself because I gave their opinions and judgments any weight.

I want to be paid attention to.

At the same time, I want valid attention.

I want truthful attention.

And for that, I will have to be valuable.

I will have to be credibly valuable.

I will have to be incredibly valuable.

And for value to come to life, life must be devalued first.

Devalued first…

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