English, Memoir, Racauan

Dysphoria #1: Self-made Hell

This is a work fiction. All resemblance with the reality is on purpose. Explicit content.

It is obvious that my loneliness is the main cause of all these fuss, unfaithfulness, the distorted feeling of entitlement. It is my most deceptive defensive mechanism–that the truth, in itself, is self destructing. I am alienating people in order to alienate myself from the hell that they construct.

Creating my own hell, is better than living somebody else’s heaven.

Thus, I hurt myself again, just to find a way to make me forget that I am lonely. I hurt myself with bulimia, with days of sleep, with obsessive scratching, cutting, and obsessive exercise when the manic came, sleepless nights, and after that I still want to punch any guy, or fuck any girl that I think deserve my fist or my dick. I am all open to fight or fuck because I’m sick of flight.

And I’d desperately love anybody who wants to love me. And I’d burn myself, sacrifice myself, ready to be crucify like Jesus H. Christ, and I’d beg people not to leave me until they’d got annoyed and see me as a freak and they need to leave me to stay sane because I’d drive them crazy, so I’d drive my car. I’d drive and drink myself hope to die on the road, hopefully with other assholes that swarming the highways of this city.

And all of it would be my fault. Nobody can blame or even care about my disorder, my upbringing, the system that I am in. I and only I, will be held responsible for all this mess that’s happening with my life and other people that I dragged.

The fucking shrink might say that this thought is cognitive distortion, self entitlement, but fuck you, the court, the people’s court cannot hold my disorder, my upbringing responsible for my actions. They cannot put those abstract nouns in jail, they could not rehabilitate my illness. It is I and only I, will be held responsible for my actions.

And what else should I do but to embrace what the universe has given me? I have eliminate the choice to take my own life because of the meds or because I’m a fucking coward. Anyway, I have no choice but struggle against a sea of trouble and by opposing hope to end them. Even though I know, that I will lose and drown and will face inevitable slow death. But at least I did fight back and refuse to flight.

At least I did good, at being brave. To open my eyes every day, and trying hard to get out of bed and go out to the world. To fight or to fuck. And if I have to lose love again, I think it’s just because I don’t deserve love. I am condemn to beg. For mercy, for love, for attention, only to toss it all out, when I feel lonely.

Because of this distorted feelings and thought, that I’d rather be alone, than be lonely. And the only way to be out of the misery of loneliness, is to break all ties and be perfectly alone to face the misery of the ubermench, the homo deus. Until there is no happines or misery any more, until there is no value in the narrative of my life.

It is when I became forgetful, mad, or die.

Sickness unto death.

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Filsafat, Memoir, Racauan

Kontrol

Sudah saatnya berhenti bicara dan kembali mengurung diri dalam membaca. Membaca diri sendiri dan membaca dunia luar dan membaca buku-buku. Dunia terlalu hingar bingar dan suara kita hanya bisa berpengaruh jika disuarakan dengan pikiran yang matang, saat yang tepat dan restu Tuhan.

Lama kelamaan saya semakin menyadari, bahwa tubuh saya sesungguhnya benar-benar sebuah mesin biologi. Kemanusiaan adalah fabrikasi akal. Inspirasi adalah ledakan-ledakan serpihan energi dalam kata dan imaji. Bahwasannya sekuat-kuatnya kita, ketika saatnya patah maka kita akan patah. Ketika saatnya lumpuh, kita akan lumpuh.

Saya berusaha mencapai sebuah kontrol diri yang tidak mungkin digapai. Sebuah pencerahan spiritual dan intelektual, ketika semua bisa saya kontrol. Kenapa harus dikontrol? Karena keliaran dan kekacauan itu begitu mudah dan instingtual buat manusia. Bahkan ketika kita anti struktur, ketika kita ingin menghancurkan kontrol yang tiran, totalitarian, kita butuh struktur yang juga tiran dan totalitarian pula yang mewujud dalam konsistensi dan komitmen kehidupan.

Kontrol itu tak mungkin tergapai karena kita akan tua lalu melumpuh lalu mati. Komitmen dan konsistensi akan terlanggar. Namun itu kenyataan yang dipercaya para nihilis. Saya belum punya kontrol itu. Belum di tahap komitmen dan konsisten. Maka ketidakmungkinan tersebut bukanlah hal yang valid untuk saya.

Yang penting kini adalah berusaha berpikir jernih dan membuat kesalahan seminimal mungkin. Seperti bermain musik klasik atau progresif. Karena Blues ada di darah, ia bisa berjalan dengan sendirinya. Namun klasik dan progresif ada di otak, terstruktur, terkontrol.

Image

Saya ingin memiliki itu dan semoga Tuhan membantu saya. Karena sungguh, jika ia memutuskan untuk mengambil akal saya, maka selesailah semua ini tanpa ada kesempatan lain.