Fuck my useless life

I'm really gonna do it. I mean, that just occurred to me tonight: I am really gonna blow my brains out come May 2012.

Shit. Like I even care. Life is a tunnel of darkness and sadness interrupted by brief flashes of happiness and light. I had one of those with the Swan. Apparently I gave the Dove that kind of feeling for a little while. But it never lasts. It never fucking lasts. The Gods LAUGH at us. They laugh at our suffering, laugh at our pain.

FUCK THEM.

FUCK GOD. FUCK LIFE.

There is NO fucking reason to live with this suffering, and I WILL fucking end it. Oh, I know: In the larger scheme of things, my suffering is nothing. How many millions or billions would give everything to trade places with me! But here I quote Johnson:

"How small of all that human hearts endure

That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!"

I was born to be miserable and no change in my physical state will cure it. Fuck, is the Swan came to me tomorrow and pledged herself to me for all eternity, I'd probably still hate myself.
 

Why should a worthless sack of shit like myself endure? Am I not, in the larger scheme of things, a detriment? My self-loathing is a cancer upon the gene pool of my species. Should it not be rooted out and burned to the quick? Should not the confused and self-sabotaging neurons breathed into being by my DNA not be torn down and topple, razed utterly, and plowed over with salt, never to rise again?

If man is to be noble and good, and to advance ever upward, I must cut myself loose. It's kind of brilliant, actually — my cancerous genes forced to extinction by the memetic dictates of some higher class of selfish genes. The fingerprints of my betters will never be found upon the knife that slits my throat; the only impressions to be found will be my own. Genius — the beautiful and mighty are absolved of all sin, and yet their glory advances.

Yeah, well fuck them. Go ahead and celebrate, sez I. I am food for worms. I am the dust of the cosmos. I am the food that will feed your offspring a million generations hence.

I am merely accelerating the process which will crown the gifted, the beautiful, the great. It is their world anyway; I want no part of it.
 

They can have my body, my cells, my molecules and atoms. But the part of me that is me will not be there. He will have unlocked his cage and run away. And you might move planets and galaxies with the flick of your fingers, beautiful ones, but the me that is writing this will be forever, forever beyond you.