It occurs to me that there will likely be a point in my existence where I will not want to keep living. I’ve lost the fear of missing out. Soon maybe, no desire to chase any thrills. Will I want to fade slowly into the background and be forgotten? Someday we will all slip from the collecive conscious so as to be never thought of again.

At that point I will already be dead. Dying merely sets things right.

To take my own life may spawn a new thought in someone else. An examination of the death itself, the intention and the execution. It’s too much for living minds. There has to be a story. Satisfactory explaination.

A simple solution, I should make it look like an accident. Merely a lapse of judgement that met my demise. That seems easier for the passerby.

it is only when a new fly starts doing circles,

that you realize the old one is dead someplace.

Breaking open the last carton to reveal the same organized shapes and patterns as the last had a comforting familiarity about it. Knowing it was the last time I would be opening a carton had a sorrow about it that had been growing since I noticed how few were left. The day that I had been dreading was finally here.

I don’t feel the weight of an existential crisis unfolding before my very eyes, I almost don’t feel anything at all. The movements find themselves in my muscle memory, I don’t even have to think.

This is going to be my last prepackaged meal. My last portioned and calculated nutrition. The last time the food was cleaned, heated properly, properly packed and stored. From here on out it won’t be so easy, my once comforting ritual is going to turn into a struggle to find sustenance across a dying landscape. I don’t know how much longer I am going to survive.

I am glad I made it this far.

Or do you think it is just about what your consciousness experiences when you interact with me.

The memories that you have stored in your head’s brain tissues.

The feelings that you are attached to and keep reliving over and over.

The social standing and societal norms you’ve bought into and hold as essential beliefs to support your thoughts. Justify your actions.

The panic and boredom that comes with spending time by yourself.

I think it is about you. And that’s why.