Hope is like a bird which flutters in the cage that is your chest. It beats itself against the ribs that bar it from escape. When your hope dies, against all expectation, the bird flutters with more strength despite a lack of life. It overwhelms, it eats away at you. Mayhaps the bird is in itself a gestalt entity comprising Hope and Despair?
This is how I feel at the moment. I used to see futures ahead of me, diverse and wonderful, then they become one vision and now I am scared that the only future I see ends in blackness.
It is how I imagine what it is like when you die. My mind cannot comprehend what it would be like to have no thought, no body, nothing that was me. A total absence of mind and body. Apart of me welcomes the thought that my life might just end, that my consciousness might blink off like a lightbulb. In truth, if there was a Heaven or Hell, that would scare me. I don’t want my consciousness to exist after I die. If it did, it would make a mockery of my life and my wishes. This is one of the reasons why I probably won’t commit suicide. I don’t have a belief in religion but I cannot take that risk. If there was a Hell, committing suicide would be a surefire way of getting myself dumped there. It is better to suffer for seventy or ninety years than to suffer for all eternity. Why risk everlasting suffering just because I couldn’t bear eight decades of sheer despair? All places may be the same to me but that is no reason for folly on a cosmic level.
Anyway… That is how I feel. Alone and trapped. Almost as if I were being buried alive, scrabbling at the closed lid of my coffin as it is lowered into the ground.
All things pass. One way or another. To quote Ren and Stimpy “happy happy joy joy!”