Saturday, July 16, 2016

It must feel good to have that kind of Passion: a sense of meaning, of direction, energy.


"Ms. Meadows, Clinically Depressed Therapist"

I have patients that are very distressed over the Election this year. It saddens me to see what little energy they have wasted on such a trivial thing. No President can make us better, the Abyss cares not for our Politics: everything for everybody ends in Defeat, eventually, and I believe it best to simply wait for it quietly...

I do have one patient who has vivid assassination fantasies: I probably shouldn't encourage his thinking, but when he speaks of them it is the only time I see him seem so alive -- sometimes I feel that I even share his excitement, too. It would be a meaningless statement of course, but different people have different ways of trying to tell the world that They Are Here...

Sometimes when I am drunk I try to imagine having the Passion to kill someone. It must feel good to have that kind of Passion: a sense of meaning, of direction, energy. When I am in this mood I scrawl a list of those I would hypothetically consider killing, but I usually decide that killing a stranger would bring the best satisfaction of Futility: if Life is Meaningless, it is Meaningless to Kill someone you don't even know...

So I walk the streets and look at the strangers I pass: I wonder if they can smell the alcohol on my breath. I could just kill one of them, or two, or three, and I will have made the Universe notice me, if only for the briefest of moments. Of course, the Despair would inevitably return, but the respite might be worth it...

That is the best my patients and I can hope for: a brief respite...

I am very drunk, but I will drive to the Liquor Store to get more alcohol. It's OK, I make the drive drunk all the time...


I am Laslo.


No comments:

Post a Comment