Scrappy Earthling

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wish to be essayist, storyteller, poet-singer, filmmaker, social entrepreneur, originator and ward off (evil) …

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The most complex thinker in the room and a mind with cancer …

2 weeks ago |

I'm sitting in a cafe, and there is this toddler who doesn't yet speak properly and yet arguing with her mother by grunting that she wants to be the one who pays the bill by giving her credit cards to the barrister. I can imagine I have had acted similarly around the same age back in time. But somewhere along the way, all those enthusiasm about being a grownup and doing things on your own fade away, almost as if it was never there, to begin with.

It's a horrible realization, just a horrible realization. The latest example of which:

Back in school, I used to listen to classical music and sometimes folks music while working on my homework or doing personal readings, but now, yesterday, I was listening to the music since a long time break, and suddenly there was a captivating one:

Yiruma. Waltz in E minor [For Cello]. Dec 7, 2013.

My thoughts, however: it would feel amazing to die with this music playing in the background!

People think suicide is a selfish decision, and indeed perhaps it is a decision, but like every other product of our brains, it is really hard to distinguish the importance of self-conscious and will-power from feelings of being delivered to your destiny.

I mean, look, I have been the kid who would surprise his teachers by creative solutions that they themselves had never thought of, but back in time I wasn't putting any shovel in the ground to come up with ideas, I would just allow my brain to work hard and find solutions on its own time – sometimes. Now, the very same brain whenever it is functioning there is a high likelihood that I'll be thinking about how to execute my own death.

You can call it a curse, a fortune-gone-wrong or simply I'm lying to you. But it's really not at all that easy when your brain turns against your well-being. It's kind of like cancer. And similarly, somehow the modern sciences haven't figured out a way to help patients heal from it permanently.

Perhaps, I'm the guy on the edge of modern psychology regarding Borderline Personality Disorder, perhaps I've long even pass that edge, but still whenever I'm feeling like I've ultimately figured out the solution, or that I've made a substantial progress, the harsh reality is there: my brain is not even remotely frequently enough focused on making living work.

Sometimes being the most complex thinker in the room is far more horrifying than depending on other thinkers to come up with a solution.