Got a message from one of my friends who wants to kill itself. Oh well. At some point in our lives, people with healthy minds would want to kill themselves.
My moment was around six or seven years ago. I wanted to experiment on my limits. How much sadness, pain and humiliation I could withstand. How much stress.
I pushed myself until I was doing 300% of what I was capable of doing. I was going for three to six assignments a day. I wrote six stories a day on top of that, some of them over 2,000 words long. I was also writing a book and survived on two to three hours of sleep a day. Seven days a week.
There were times when I worked for more than 24 hours straight. Of my own volition. I needed to win. I needed to be number one.
I got so muddled, I made some of the biggest mistakes in my life during those times. Like I misspelled somebody's name and stuff like that.
The only thing that kept me going was Super Robot Spirits. Memories of anime. I pushed and I pushed until I puked blood. Literally. I was hospitalised for stress-related complications, where the doctors told me to drink beer.
No one visited, while I was at the hospital. It was then I realised that I was truly alone.
However, as one of my seniors put it, being alone and being lonely are two different things. Being alone, with four daily doses of morphine which forced me to sleep, was very good. I would love to be lying in bed, with four doses of morphine a day. In fact, I want to die of morphine overdose.
Being lonely, on the other hand, means that you should just kill yourself. If you don't enjoy your own company, then you should die.
I wasn't lonely. I was alone. And that was good. That was great.
See, whatever experience anyone has, it is to forward them to true awakening. And how I awakened.
Whenever I wake up from my morphine dreams, the only show on TV was Totally Spies. It was totally irrelevant. To my life or to my condition.
The bed, though, was nice. I thought a lot, on that bed. I realised that I am a vagabond. A barbarian. The wolf beneath the tree. And that nothing matters. Nothing is real. No one is real.
Everything is what we make of it. Suffering is stupid, because it creates nothing else but more suffering. Competition is stupid because it has no end, and no matter how good you think you are, there is always somebody better.
If you look for flaws, flaws are all you would find. Build from strength, not from weakness.
Then, I went to Thailand, many times, to understand. I tested my theories with the Whore-Priestesses of Shabda-Oud.
What I discovered, works for me. It is my lesson. Not yours.
I finally understood what I was. I wasn't a super robot pilot. I AM the super robot.
Or something like that.