A Melancholic Revelation

Imagine a feeling of elation that is so powerful you burst out in recalcitrant laughter. You could be watching a deer jerk and moan out its last painful breaths and just smile. You can’t contain it. It just comes at you for no reason, and leaves as mysteriously as it came. It doesn’t feel sadistic or odd, but healthy. As the laughter peaks a previously latent feeling begins to emerge. Within seconds of it hitting the peak the realization that you are empty takes over and dominates your thoughts. There is nothing going on inside. No joy, no sadness, no anger, no fear. You are at the plateau of the purest depression imaginable. Just sitting there, not giving a rat’s ass about anything. In this vast storm of dismay there is only one beacon of light standing tall, and projecting the truth into your miserable, gloom-ridden excuse of a life. If you would just take a revolver and paint the wall with your brains you would never have to feel this again. All of the previous thoughts and assumptions you had about suicide and those who do it go fly out the window. All you can think about is ending this horrible feeling that has led an emotional coup d’etat on your psyche. You have no soul. All you can do is just sit there; and the longer you do the more you realize that everything you are thinking about how pointless life is is really true. All of your worries are gone. You want to cry, but you can’t, you just sit there, laughing. And all of a sudden suicide begins to really make sense. Not even as a means to end the pain. It just feels right. The longer and longer you sit there the more and more it becomes logical. Just kill yourself, end it now, because life has no point. You are not here to serve a god. There is no driving purpose of life. Going to school, and getting a job won’t make you happy. All the drugs in the world wouldn’t take you away from this. There is only one escape. But you couldn’t kill yourself if you wanted to. You can’t stop fucking laughing.