Oh, It's the Last Time

It would be best, I think, if we could turn ourselves inside out,

or wipe ourselves clean, like giant blackboards, so that we could feel no emotion at all. What I 

would like most of all is to simply feel...nothing, to walk through my life as collected and

unruffled below as I can appear to be on the surface.  If I could extract my limbic system and throw it away, I would do that.

My friends would tell me, as they have told me in the past, that it's useful to remember that everyone suffers and is unhappy, that it comes to us all.  But I don't want everyone to suffer - I don't want anyone to suffer.  I get no pleasure or sense of justice from the unhappiness of others, and I would turn away from myself even more if I did.  Let others be unhappy, or let them feel the great happiness we all deserve - in fact, I hope ardently that everyone will be happy.  I would just like to watch from above, untouched in any way.

People would say I wouldn't feel that way if I were happy, that then I'd want my emotions, and of course they'd be right.  My last therapist would say we must have great sorrow if we are to have great happiness:  if we can't feel the first, we also can't feel the second.  And he's right.  But right now, at this moment, if I could anaesthetise myself utterly - if I could pluck out my heart from my chest and flick it away from me like a disliked chocolate - I would do it.

This is the last post I'll write about this, because it's unfair to make these disgorgings given the audience that may read them.