Before my eyesight fades completely, before I become a complete burden to others, and before I disappoint any more people, I would like to leave. In my sleep, preferably (as if one could choose these things), like slipping into a dream, or rather, not waking up from a dream at all.
I don't think I can do it by my own hand, as much as I've thought about it in the past and especially recently. (Though it would be easy; my allergies are so extreme all I would need would be a handful of over-the-counter painkillers.) I'd rather not leave my family with that particular weight.
I don't think I'm going to be able to write the books I wanted to before I die, so I might as well go now, while I'm still a fairly independent, semi-functional human, before anyone else wastes any more time and effort on me. I don't know how I can make this happen though. Again, how does one choose these things, aside from straight-up suicide?
Maybe I'll get lucky.
It's funny, last night's dream was a positive one. I was back in my old room in Lola Cil's house in UP Campus, and I had finally cleaned up my huge heavy desk and I felt like I was starting with a clean slate, and ready for anything. It was a good feeling. Perhaps it's a preview of the afterlife. Perhaps dying is clearing your desk and getting ready for what's next.
I think I need more sleep.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment