Do you not get it? You want to end things. And by things I mean you. You want to end yourself. So all the troubles go away. Imagine when that would actually happen: how freeing not to feel, not to weigh, not to see or hear, how freeing would it be to just not be: free of words, or grammar rules, of career paths, hobbies, future plans, expectations of yourself and others, free of pain and happiness, free of all dreams and goals. How can death be so sweet and desirable? It’s like all desires have died only to give life to one desire: the only desire you have, the one desire that overwrites all other wants and wishes, all bodily needs, and rights, the desire to end. How liberating is it to speak of it so freely, so openly? And let the words find their way out, like blood making a stream of its own only outside of one’s body. How precious. The only moment, where we come face to face with one’s vulnerability and worth is when we’re losing them. Had you come this close to the end before...
It all happens once I get up from the couch. I get up and instantly lose balance. I'm probably just sleepy. I better go to bed. Perhaps, watching a film, as strange as "I'm Thinking of Ending Things" has this effect on its viewers, or at least on those who get sucked in the film's world more easily. I feel misplaced. My steps get weaker and weaker. By the time, I approach my bed, I feel like I'm much older, frail, and futile, just like Jake's parents in the film. I feel as if someone is pressing against my head as if someone is taking revenge by cornering me in the most alienating way. I know things are happening around me, but I have lost touch. Or they're getting further and further. I bump into the bed. I have to find socks to wear. It's getting cold, but I need fresh air: Windows wide open, shivering, and feeling out of breath. Pacing up and down the room, in circles, hoping I keep my balance and by walking, I let go of my piling stress bit by...