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The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first edition
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2015-10-29 at 12:52 AM UTC
lol wuts goin on in dis thread guise
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2015-10-29 at 12:54 AM UTC
Caffeine powder has been banned in Ohio for a few months now but I was just able to order 500 grams regardless. My last order was 250 grams and that lasted me about 18 months.
You should really try this combination, it's cheap and extremely effective:
https://www.bluebrainboost.com/p/buy-78-dihydroxyflavone-supplement/
http://www.powdercity.com/products/coleus-forskohlii-root-extract
The forskolin may upregulate TrkB receptors by itself, and at least prevent downregulation from 7,8-DHF use, which seems to be the mediator for it's main MOA and what causes tolerance to develop. Unlike most antidepressants 7,8-DHF can be felt immediately. -
2015-10-29 at 2:45 AM UTC
Oh, I forgot to update on opium. I didn't like it, although, as I said, it's possible that even low doses of T-PAIN could be interfering somehow, but I doubt it. I remember hydro mentioning that she opioids felt much weaker while on it, but she was using excessive amounts, enough to trigger withdrawals.
I took 400 or 450mg, which is quite a lot. Made me feel a bit numb and dissociated in a way, but it wasn't enjoyable, just an "off" feeling. Also gave me bad nausea for a short period when taken orally. Then it triggered pretty bad anxiety, but different from normal. It was like every negative thought, even minor ones, would trigger a feeling of mild to moderate panic. I also vaporized quite a significant amount and it felt the same.
Oh, I also remember waking up after I had drifted to sleep in bed and may have felt some respiratory depression. I took T-PAIN as a safety net, but it may have been wearing off by that time. It wasn't really that scary or unpleasant, makes me wonder if I could have died in my sleep if I hadn't taken T-PAIN.
*shrugs* May not have the genes for it, like alcohol. Some people just don't react well to certain classes of drugs. I'm not giving up, though, next step is to try heroin, the cheap stuff I found on Abraxas.
It's because of the T-PAIN. You will have to be completely off that shit before you try another opiate, your tolerance becomes astronomical. Or, maybe, the genetic thing. Remember bradley b? opiates dont affect him at all. -
2015-10-29 at 3:27 AM UTC
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VERY MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. -
2015-10-29 at 3:28 AM UTCPoC, do you know why I would never seriously consider going on a shooting spree with you?
Because I'd probably be the first person you'd shoot. -
2015-10-29 at 6:15 PM UTC
PoC, do you know why I would never seriously consider going on a shooting spree with you?
Your first on everyone's list.
Because I'd probably be the first person you'd shoot. -
2015-10-29 at 8:15 PM UTCI am contemplating suicide in the truest sense of the term. My plan is to engage in regular psychedelic therapy while in isolation to see if it has anything to offer, any revelations, healing/personal development, or simple new experiences, something that may change my views and the way I feel about life. Then I will see whether I can find any happiness in other people, but I have very low expectations of this and I am not sure if life is really worth living if I cannot be happy alone. Then again, I'm never truly alone, even without other people, communication with them, in physical proximity, I am still utilizing their creations. If I had somehow been born into the world truly alone, without other people existing, then surely life would not be worth living. My ignorance could be my only saving grace in that situation, the lack of knowledge and awareness, the thoughts, that have haunted me in this life, never having learned language I would be unable to develop or articulate advanced concepts, insights into life, and would simply live as animal, and die as one one day. The third aspect is to increase pharmaceutical efforts to enhance biological function, to repair neurological function, treat deficits, and generally improve my ability to function in life and, most importantly, experience happiness and emotion. The most powerful antidepressants, anxiolytics, and stimulants. Currently I am mainly interested in Nardil/phenelzine, NSI-189, 7,8-DHF, and ALKS-5461 when it becomes available, or another KOR antagonist.
I will attempt to experience true happiness, but at this point it feels that happiness is no longer enough, that life, reality, itself may forever be fundamentally inadequate to me, and it will not be sufficient reason to continue to live. There are thought experiments related to the nature of consciousness and justifications for continuing to live that I cannot currently find satisfactory answers to that lead me to believe there is a reason for continuing to exist. If I can experience that, something, an ecstatic state, perhaps one of unity with existence, or if I fail to achieve it, and still decide that I can find no fulfillment in life, a satisfactory reason to live, then when I have come to terms with death, abandoned my fear of it, and developed the courage, the strength, to commit the act with resolve and not fail, then I will commit to suicide. If I decide to forgo cryogenic preservation, which is a very real possibility, then I will never live again, and all I could have said to have been will be lost to time and I will never suffer again.
I am serious. I feel like I skipped straight to being an old man and have the distinct feeling of being at the end of my life. I consider myself terminally ill, in that, if I cannot find a cure to whatever it is that afflicts me, I will die within a few years; I don't want to drag out the inevitable out of cowardice and fear. It's possible that I may be dying regardless, it wouldn't surprise me if one day I went to a hospital and learned that I was riddled with cancer or another terminal illness. Cancer or the soul or cancer of the body, one will likely kill me one day. -
2015-10-29 at 9:19 PM UTCWhy bhother with all the psychedelic therapy just buy a can of helium and be done with it.
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2015-10-29 at 10:04 PM UTCNot feeling compassionate today, ay? I am serious sophie, I am going to die, I know it. It's possible that something will change, but I don't feel any hope for it, I don't think it's likely. I just couldn't find anything in life for me, and in a way I am very depressed, alone, and afraid. I have been thinking about this general subject for a long time now, last night I spent a long time meditating on this in the dark before sleep.
I want to do it properly and be sure of my decision. It takes a lot of courage to understand what death is, the finality of ceasing to exist, forever, and to go through with it with no hopes of redemption, an after life, of ever meeting with anyone you knew in this life or experiencing anything ever again. If I can dedicate myself to this and accomplish it as I desire, it will have been my proudest achievement in life, the only thing I will have been proud of, and that is very sad in a way. You should read the works of Thomas Joiner if you're ever interested in the psychology of suicide, it's very interesting in a way, one of the extremes of human existence.
I'm not sure if I want to chronicle it, although if I did, particularly if I managed to come back from this, it could be a valuable work. Related to Thomas Joiner, it reminds me of one of the common myths/misconceptions he addressed about suicide, that a note is (almost) always left. It's surprisingly common for them to not leave anything at all, or have said a word about it to anyone. It relates to the profound isolation that those who are seriously suicidal generally feel. Nothing after my death will matter, I will not experience it, and I am not doing this for others, I am not particularly interested in leaving a legacy, a memory in others, or achieving any recognition. It would be crude egoism, and that's far behind me, it should be completely behind me if I go through with this. As for helping others, that's not something that drives me and it relates to my thoughts on the arguments for continuing to live and how it applies/relates to others, the motivation to serve or better the lives of others, of those you care about.
Lanny, your father's been given a poor prognosis. It's a depressing subject, but is he the type to read literature to coming to terms with death, on living with a terminal illness, the final moments in life? I was looking for books on this, but of course there's always the pop/best seller list garbage to wade through. There's also been interesting, serious, research on using psychedelics to assist this process. IIRC psilocin/psilocybin was used in one study and very good results were achieved, anxiety toward death was greatly reduced, it gave people a feeling of peace and acceptance. Wouldn't it be interesting if you guided him through sessions? It could genuinely help him, although I feel you may stray from rationality, which is understandable due to the emotional intensity of the subject, and feel offense as if I'm suggesting you conduct an experiment on him. It could really be one of the most wonderful things you could do for a person in his situation, if he's open to it, and give you the final moments together, of deep and genuine connection and understanding, you'd like to have before he passes. If you love and care for someone, don't feel regret for the rest of your life because you didn't make the effort to understand who they truly were, the deepest aspects of their being. You're a good guy, do good things with you life. -
2015-10-30 at 12:53 AM UTCAnyone got a 100% certain poppy pod source? I want to try the pods instead of the seeds, but I don't feel like gambling on getting setigerum pods instead....fucking ripoff artists everywhere these days.
If I can't find pods, I am wondering how long a gram of some decent ecp would last me. is 10 days an unrealistic expectation? -
2015-10-30 at 4:47 AM UTCHey malice, why don't you go out and you know, talk to people? Could it be you just haven't found those people who you'd connect with? I'm sure there are those out there, but they are too shy and holed up in their apartments just like you are to come out and talk to the rest of the world. You should at least give this a shot before you commit suicide, you have so much more to explore in life before you clock out. What have you go to lose? What are you afraid of? Sure, the chances are that the vast majority of people you meet, especially for you, you will not like. But isn't it worth the search, if only to see what it's like? Go set up a date online, go to events, take a class, do something with your life and try to socialize with other people. Make a goddamned friend before you decide you've had enough with life. You seem to switch on and off between "I wonder what its like to have people im so sad" to "fuck people i dont need them people are this and that". It's kind of ridiculous considering you haven't had any sort of real, meaningful connection to any other human in your entire life. Go see what that's like.
And if nothing else, if absolutely nothing else, go get yourself a hooker before you clock out.
You could also hitchhike aimlessly
or pawn everything and fly to another country
you could go live in the wilderness
You could do a lot of things. You have no obligations, you have all the time in the world, you have a good brain on you but you haven't a very good head. Do something now instead of just doing nothing forever. There is so much shit you can do malice, so much shit. I often wish I didn't have anyone who gave a shit about me, or any obligations to anybody, any responsibilities, you have that. Don't waste it like you have been.
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2015-10-30 at 4:51 AM UTC
It's because of the T-PAIN. You will have to be completely off that shit before you try another opiate, your tolerance becomes astronomical. Or, maybe, the genetic thing. Remember bradley b? opiates dont affect him at all.
Does T-PAIN really fuck your tolerance that bad comparatively? I've been on it for ~1.5 months. I want to get off it but, it halps me a lot with pain/problems. I should probably taper off soon but it's easy to just keep using. -
2015-10-30 at 4:58 AM UTC
Went to lie down because I was feeling particularly down, ended up thinking about sad things in life and crying (pretty common occurrence mornings and nights in bed), then drifting to sleep. The major depression equivalent of naps.
I'd ask whether you ever do this and how often you cry, PoC, but you wouldn't tell us. So closed off.
Out of curiosity, what does your crying look like? I'm gonna be honest- I cry sometimes but it's just tearing up. Never out of 'just' a thinking depression though. -
2015-10-30 at 5:47 AM UTC*looks upon the world*
"You're simply doing what feels safe, and easy to you, what's in your (animal) nature."
^ Isn't that what you're doing, but to a far worse extent?
If you were simply observing rats for a study in a laboratory you'd observe: This is simply the outcome of the cascade of effects brought on by extreme social isolation. Poor little thing, it's so sad. Then you'd move on.
Look at the crushed ant on the floor while you're on 100ug of LSD and attempt not to be unnerved by it, meta-cognitive, aware, of what the perception would be if you were a detached observer. This happened x minutes ago, it had little impact on me, I moved on. "What if I had been born an ant?" Well, we weren't. Looking down upon us a being may be thinking, what if I had been born a human being? This is a stereotypical thought, it is not a novel concept. But no matter how high those ants built their tower of babel, tried to get attention, confirmation of something in the universe, we never came to them.
I remember there was a thread some time ago, it had something to do with the themes of, possibly hobbies, and why you find joy in them. Happy being a cog helping to drive forth the wheel of humanity.
I wanted to write this, but lost interest as I had done countless other times for countless other thoughts because nothing ever seems to amount to anything. Did you know that when I was young child, some time in elementary school, there was a contest for a spot in an art club? Only, it seems odd that there would be a contest for that, these things are usually open to whoever wants to join. For some reason I wanted to join that club, and I did. I would cry because nothing ever felt good enough. That was the distinct thought, the concept, I had in mind. I only enjoy the best in life, the extremes of existence and achievement, and even those barely touch me now, which isn't to brag, because it's a horrible thing to experience when you can find so little joy in so little things and one day you can't find any at all and it's like all the lights have gone out in the world, every home, the pockets of creation fleeting through time, interwoven with emotion and human life, a cascade of effects through time leading to this moment (Picking up a rock, a smooth pebble, from a plant jar in the office of the person telling you this, attempting to make you see value in human life and experience, and making the applicable statement that this applies to that too, was the response that arose in my mind), you never used to be invited into those places, able to feel the warmth and comfort of others, but you could at least look at the Christmas decorations and the films that played on TV around that time, the right scene and music, invoking the feeling of what it might be like to at least look in on that scene and feel warm because they're feeling warm. How many years ago did those remaining fleeting thoughts completely die, leaving you in this general unfeeling state of living death? I know how this has dragged on and the absurd point this was leading to. What I was getting at was, did you know that I would be there, and nothing would come to me, nothing that I wanted to do, the compliments, the reassurances, of others never reached me, they did nothing to me, and all these years later I still feel the same except it's about everything now?!
And this is all garbage too. None of this is original or has any real depth to it. How many repetitions of this have occurred in a world with billions of people and countless units of time, moments of human experience? Even awareness of this has no originality. Nothing is ever good enough. My entire life is garbage so of course I want to throw it away. I could never find anything to fill it because there just wasn't anything there and I can't be happy like other people who find their small happiness in life. It's not simply the stereotypical thought of not achieving what you wanted, it's the fundamental inadequacy of existence.
Think of the lab rat: This is what looks like to be paralyzed by fear.
Lanny, you're simply the only person I'm aware of in physical proximity. If I was having a mental breakdown, would you come get me? Or, would you be like all the rest? Could you imagine it, someone that makes people so uncomfortable to begin with because there's so obviously something wrong with them, because they're broken, is now on LSD and trying to talk you about this? Could you imagine someone that you just happened to cross paths with in the past and hurt because you could just never accept and connect to anyone, anyone at all, someone that has passed you by in the stream of life like all the rest, standing their with their children at their side, a look of concern on their face. "That man has severe schizophrenia. He needs help." You're perceived to be such a monster, apparently, that they fear for their children's safety, or at least the primal drive is roused, the reasonable risk avoidance, and mentally unstable people are a much greater risk to be fair; that person, someone that before you'd only see in videos viewed for your vicarious amusement, the most unrelatable of characters, viewed with the highest feeling of detachment, is now you. You're insane and you're broken, so it's someone else's obligation, someone whose job it is to handle this, professionally trained, experienced. And the last thing you wanted is to have someone sent who's simply doing it out of routine? The most alienating thing of all at this point, all you wanted was someone to be willing to accept you and that burden, and reach out to you personally because they saw something in you, some potential, or even if it wasn't hidden behind what you've become simply felt sad for you as a fellow human being who was suffering, like a starving dog in the street ridden with mange; rather than defer it to someone else whose job is to be take all the people that have been deferred, and they're so jaded and detached because the reality is that most people they receive are ugly, the ugliest of all, and unpleasant, I already know I'm unpleasant, how could I not be, realistically?, and you're one of them, you're ugly too, and you don't really deserve help either just like all the other people you had no concern for and made suffer in your life, overlooked because you considered them inferior, homeless faces on the street begging for change, people who want your attention, but you have to turn them away because your time is limited and you team up and pair off with people who are like you and that's just the way life is.
I wouldn't really ask you to do that Lanny. I don't want anyone to see me like this, or to burden them, and I don't even want to be around anymore because it doesn't make a difference if they're right there sitting a few feet from me, I can't feel a thing from them, and I know that isn't going to change. This isn't my world. That's how I feel, I don't want to intervene and interfere with the small happiness anyone has found in life, and that's really the best you can hope for, because this isn't my world, I don't belong here.I understand why people tiptoe around suicide or even lie about it outright. This has never been clearer to me than when my oldest son, Malachi (named after my dad’s ancestor who was the first in our family to come to America), asked me why my dad was not alive. He was three years old at the time. Luckily, I had anticipated this question, but I thought I’d have another two or three years to think about my answer. I took a deep breath and said something like, “Well, you know how people can get sick, like when you have a cough or your stomach hurts. People can get sick like that in their bodies, and they can also get sick in their minds, sometimes very sick. My dad got very sick like that in his mind; he got to where he was so sad and lonely that he didn’t want to live anymore. When people feel like this for a long time, they sometimes think about hurting themselves or even killing themselves. That’s what my dad did.â€
I just felt so sick, so sad and alone, that I had to go away forever. You see those people driven suicide and think, "I've been depressed, but at least I've never been driven to that point." (You've been fortunate to avoid the kind of pain and experience that makes ending your life feel necessary and imminent. And then you realize, years in the past you would never have been able to relate to it, because to truly understand would be to experience, "I'm one of those people now."The fig tree passage always hit me pretty hard, as it does with many middle class young people I suspect.
My list grew longer..
I was a terrible dancer. I couldn’t carry a tune. I had no sense of balance, and when we had to walk down a narrow board with our hands out and a book on our heads in gym class I always fell over. I couldn’t ride a horse or ski, the two things I wanted to do most, because they cost too much money. I couldn’t speak German or read Hebrew or write Chinese. I didn’t even know where most of the old out-of-the-way countries the UN men in front of me represented fitted in on the map.
For the first time in my life, sitting there in the sound-proof heart of the UN building between Constantin who could play tennis as well as simultaneously interpret and the Russian girl who knew so many idioms, I felt dreadfully inadequate. The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn’t thought about it.
The one thing I was good at was winning scholarships and prizes, and that era was coming to an end.
I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like the date on a tombstone.
I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out.
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
It's like that tree has been in a stream my entire life, just outside of and detached from the river of time and human experience, and although time doesn't seem to be moving at all, and has meaning, to me, it can't be helped, no matter what I do, those figs, you're all just getting farther and farther and I was only ever watching everything from a park bench beside it all, imagining what those figs tasted like, from the day I was born. -
2015-10-30 at 6:30 AM UTC
Hey malice, why don't you go out and you know, talk to people? Could it be you just haven't found those people who you'd connect with? I'm sure there are those out there, but they are too shy and holed up in their apartments just like you are to come out and talk to the rest of the world. You should at least give this a shot before you commit suicide, you have so much more to explore in life before you clock out. What have you go to lose? What are you afraid of? Sure, the chances are that the vast majority of people you meet, especially for you, you will not like. But isn't it worth the search, if only to see what it's like? Go set up a date online, go to events, take a class, do something with your life and try to socialize with other people. Make a goddamned friend before you decide you've had enough with life. You seem to switch on and off between "I wonder what its like to have people im so sad" to "fuck people i dont need them people are this and that". It's kind of ridiculous considering you haven't had any sort of real, meaningful connection to any other human in your entire life. Go see what that's like.
And if nothing else, if absolutely nothing else, go get yourself a hooker before you clock out.
You could also hitchhike aimlessly
or pawn everything and fly to another country
you could go live in the wilderness
You could do a lot of things. You have no obligations, you have all the time in the world, you have a good brain on you but you haven't a very good head. Do something now instead of just doing nothing forever. There is so much shit you can do malice, so much shit. I often wish I didn't have anyone who gave a shit about me, or any obligations to anybody, any responsibilities, you have that. Don't waste it like you have been.
Do you know why, every single time, going outside only makes me more depressed? Because it confirms that there isn't anything out there. Wouldn't that be the worst thing of all, knowing you won't find anything, except it involves other people and you're only going to make them depressed? It just feels like there's...something profoundly wrong with the world, with human nature and relationships. It's the fact that you're dealing with human lives, sentient consciousness, emotions, ideas, hopes and dreams, even if you can't rationally justify it and it's really because you're incredibly sensitive in a way that never comes up because you're completely shielded from the world. It's one of the countless things I lost the desire to write about, because I lost interest in absolutely everything in life. What are other people to you? Why do you continue to exist?
What makes someone who they are. There all these variables, and as for their ideas, what they communicate, if you could fully absorb that, contain every aspect of what they are and really know a person, what purpose would be left for interacting with them? Physical limitations, geographical limitations, intertemporality. Out of all the people on earth, due to the limitations of reality, you choose them out of everyone, and you exclude others. Why? Because that's just the way life is and you have to accept it? But it's not like playing a video game or reading a book, you're dealing with actual life. Even if they accept that, if you both accept it, is it really okay? Have I just become so detached and alienated, abstracted things into oblivion, that I can't stop thinking for a single moment and simply exist and feel? But what is it ever going to amount to and what happens at the end?
In a way I'm most likely one of the stupidest people on Earth. But there's just something about the entire situation that I just can't accept and come to terms with.
"I'm not afraid anymore." "If there's pain, it means something." "If you can accept death, you can accept this."
After much hesitation, uncertainty, thinking about Lanny's post and the cliche psychological crutch it providesHave you considered taking a hefty dose of a psychedelic while putting benzos or anything to abort the trip out of reach? Like going into the experience without a way jump out before the most intense part. I've sure you're aware of the research around psychedelics and dealing with death, how it helps terminal patients come to terms with their mortality, and that despite the subjective fear or anxiety there's no real physiological risk, even during really bad trips. I've had a couple of terrifying experiences but I don't imagine they're even that much worse than your day to day according to how you describe it. It's like jumping off a diving board for the first time: it's scary but once you commit to it without a way of turning back it's a really rewarding experience.
the blotter dropped beneath a raised tongue and while it could have been spit out, the act now solidified the feeling of this being out of your control. "If you can abandon yourself to death, allow any pain to wash over you." Merely feelings, something you observe, but then, isn't all of life, and why are we afraid of anything? But I thought, that if I really did, somehow, begin to die during the trip, if my heart felt strange, perhaps due to an unknown defect that on some level I might hope I have so that it's out of my control and my cowardice is no longer a barrier, or feel I deserve, would I be afraid? I would, because I haven't yet come to terms with death and there are still some things I want to try and experience. Who's to say I'm not wrong and there isn't something out there that will change everything and one day this will all seem like a very strange, sad, and distant, dream. I can't genuinely accept death at any moment, it creates a barrier to full abandonment, so I must believe that most likely, there is an extremely high probability, that I will not die and that even if I feel like I am dying wouldn't it be nice to finally experience a reprieve from the incredible burden and pain of being me, of a lifetime of human knowledge and understanding (wisdom) that has only ever brought about more pain? Just "let go" and experience without the limitations, the memory, the lens through which the experience is shaped/distorted, and simply feel and exist for a moment? You stop being yourself for a moment to join with the greater whole, and when you return you do so with more wisdom, with the experience and understanding, of what you just underwent?
My entire life, segments of it and those of others are being repeatedly panned out from with a fisheye lens by a nameless narrator or audienceless audience observing the show.
What will happen when you stop writing and the floodgates of insanity are released? Should we go for ego death this time and finally experience it?
This could be my last communication with man. Either not worth conveying or incapable of being properly conveyed because human language, the limitations of communication, simply fail you? That's the way these situations go, don't they?
The camera pans back to the audience waiting in suspense, who may never know what next occurred. Nobodies watching and nobody cares, this has been an empty study broadcast to no one on public television since the show began. You had your free hour, you wasted it, now move out of the way for the next person in queue to attempt to mesmerize us with their hopes and dreams and antics in life so that, if he really tries his best, we'll all watch him and he won't feel so alone, he'll be taken out of the dreariness or reality and into the limelight, until we forget about him and the next superior performance comes along to supplant it all.
"This is what it looks like to lose your mind, boys and girls. Don't ever let your children end up like me. :'(" -
2015-10-30 at 2:34 PM UTC
Not feeling compassionate today, ay? I am serious sophie, I am going to die, I know it. It's possible that something will change, but I don't feel any hope for it, I don't think it's likely. I just couldn't find anything in life for me, and in a way I am very depressed, alone, and afraid. I have been thinking about this general subject for a long time now, last night I spent a long time meditating on this in the dark before sleep.
I want to do it properly and be sure of my decision. It takes a lot of courage to understand what death is, the finality of ceasing to exist, forever, and to go through with it with no hopes of redemption, an after life, of ever meeting with anyone you knew in this life or experiencing anything ever again. If I can dedicate myself to this and accomplish it as I desire, it will have been my proudest achievement in life, the only thing I will have been proud of, and that is very sad in a way. You should read the works of Thomas Joiner if you're ever interested in the psychology of suicide, it's very interesting in a way, one of the extremes of human existence.
You've gone on similar rants before, I'm not particularly convinced, I don't think anyone else is. You could prove me wrong I suppose but you couldn't fake your suicide as a joke. Merely disappearing wouldn't convince anyone with how often you go on about filming overdose/suicide. Anyway, you're good at finding a reason to avoid much simpler things, I don't think you could ever kill yourself even if you actually wanted to. Which is kind of a curse in a way, you'd be better off if you were sincere, made an actual effort to find some meaning or die trying. Oh well.Lanny, your father's been given a poor prognosis. It's a depressing subject, but is he the type to read literature to coming to terms with death, on living with a terminal illness, the final moments in life? I was looking for books on this, but of course there's always the pop/best seller list garbage to wade through. There's also been interesting, serious, research on using psychedelics to assist this process. IIRC psilocin/psilocybin was used in one study and very good results were achieved, anxiety toward death was greatly reduced, it gave people a feeling of peace and acceptance. Wouldn't it be interesting if you guided him through sessions? It could genuinely help him, although I feel you may stray from rationality, which is understandable due to the emotional intensity of the subject, and feel offense as if I'm suggesting you conduct an experiment on him. It could really be one of the most wonderful things you could do for a person in his situation, if he's open to it, and give you the final moments together, of deep and genuine connection and understanding, you'd like to have before he passes. If you love and care for someone, don't feel regret for the rest of your life because you didn't make the effort to understand who they truly were, the deepest aspects of their being. You're a good guy, do good things with you life.
He's on so much fentanyl he probably couldn't even hold a book up. Tracheostomized so he can't talk, too out of it to be communicative anyway, even if I thought it was a good idea (supposedly he took acid once when he was younger but I don't think he'd handle psychedelics well these days, even if he wasn't in the hospital and intermittently in pain/sedated) I'd have a hard time getting satisfactory consent and obviously it would have to be done on the downlow since his physician wouldn't allow it and he's in the hospital so I don't think there's any way it could work. -
2015-10-30 at 4:36 PM UTC
Not feeling compassionate today, ay? I am serious sophie, I am going to die, I know it. It's possible that something will change, but I don't feel any hope for it, I don't think it's likely. I just couldn't find anything in life for me, and in a way I am very depressed, alone, and afraid. I have been thinking about this general subject for a long time now, last night I spent a long time meditating on this in the dark before sleep.
I want to do it properly and be sure of my decision. It takes a lot of courage to understand what death is, the finality of ceasing to exist, forever, and to go through with it with no hopes of redemption, an after life, of ever meeting with anyone you knew in this life or experiencing anything ever again. If I can dedicate myself to this and accomplish it as I desire, it will have been my proudest achievement in life, the only thing I will have been proud of, and that is very sad in a way. You should read the works of Thomas Joiner if you're ever interested in the psychology of suicide, it's very interesting in a way, one of the extremes of human existence.
I'm not sure if I want to chronicle it, although if I did, particularly if I managed to come back from this, it could be a valuable work. Related to Thomas Joiner, it reminds me of one of the common myths/misconceptions he addressed about suicide, that a note is (almost) always left. It's surprisingly common for them to not leave anything at all, or have said a word about it to anyone. It relates to the profound isolation that those who are seriously suicidal generally feel. Nothing after my death will matter, I will not experience it, and I am not doing this for others, I am not particularly interested in leaving a legacy, a memory in others, or achieving any recognition. It would be crude egoism, and that's far behind me, it should be completely behind me if I go through with this. As for helping others, that's not something that drives me and it relates to my thoughts on the arguments for continuing to live and how it applies/relates to others, the motivation to serve or better the lives of others, of those you care about.
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You illicit a lot of emotions from me Malice, compassion is rarely one of them. That being said don't be a faggot. This too will pass. -
2015-10-30 at 7:27 PM UTCshitpost to offset all the longposting
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2015-10-30 at 8:34 PM UTCHere's a nice song to contemplate suicide to.
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2015-10-30 at 11:50 PM UTC
Does T-PAIN really fuck your tolerance that bad comparatively? I've been on it for ~1.5 months. I want to get off it but, it halps me a lot with pain/problems. I should probably taper off soon but it's easy to just keep using.
That's what I heard, from several anecdotal accounts. I would know firsthand, except that every time I go to order T-PAIN, they are sold out so I say fuck it and just buy seeds or darknet heroin. I guess you could get ahold of some opiates and try it out, and let us know.
I have over a dozen possible pod sources but I haven't tried any of them yet, and I fear that some of them are ripoff places. So, if anyone has one that they know for a fact works, let me know, if you would....
