The unbearable of existence
Kafka said that the beginning of understanding or sign of consciousness was the desire to die, I would say that I reached my consciousness at an early age, despite the deep desire and several attempts I only achieved a superego punishment, time passes and even having the tools Life doesn’t really get any less complicated.
It’s like a hole in your chest that you try to repair by all means, but nothing fills it and as you try to close it you realize that you don’t have the slightest idea how to do that, or that your tools are not effective for that job, I can buy the entire workshop and still not know how to use the tools, sometimes they work and other times they don’t, while all this happens you see the others with their tools fixing everything that comes their way almost effortlessly and you ask yourself, what is wrong then?
Existing becomes more complicated over time and only leaves you with one sentence:
<<everything would be better if I ceased to exist>>
If language falls short and communication does not exist, then what is the point of living a life where I am alone, empty and not understood?
When you have tried so many things to reduce the weight of existence, you do not understand how you can consider your own life as sacred, a life that you did not ask for, nor do you desire. And if everything was solved with faith, if you blindly believed that there was a supreme being who could solve everything, you would also have to accept that free will does not exist and if it does not exist, what is the point of living if you cannot make your own decisions?
Suicide and death is a taboo topic because “you should not play at being God” but the human being with the hypocrisy that characterizes him plays at being God all the time, what is correct and what is not, what is well regarded and what is not. , the discomfort of not knowing what you are doing here combined with the incredible guilt of not being able to express the desire to stop existing without feeling egoistic, you cannot talk about emptiness without automatically feeling dramatic, exaggerated, guilty and anguished, so there seems to be no escape to suffering that from my point of view is like the only constant throughout life, even though everything is ephemeral the same feeling always returns.
Before, my biggest fear was getting old and losing the ability to take care of myself, depending on someone else without knowing if they will be around or not. Even though that fear has been dissipating, it has never been extinguished. It is extremely difficult for me to depend on others blindly. Man is a wolf to man and living is a completely violent act that I commit against my will.
What is wrong with me if I have friends who appreciate me, a family that supports me, I have a roof over my head and food on the table, and even with all that I feel a deep void in me that I still don’t know how to fill?
So;
According to Camus, I would give up the most important decision,
According to Freud, I would renounce my ego, for strictly egoic reasons,
According to Lacan, I would be freeing myself from the other to belong to myself,
And according to me, I feel more distant than ever.
This monologue is participating in a call for Letras Negras/Palabra Herida
