A living dead man

Is this existence nothing but a montage of binary compositions?  Why is it that so many things appear to be in competition with each other.  Is the idea of competition merely an idea?  A fiction?  If not, what are “we” competing for?  Who wins who loses and what is the “prize?”

These are are questions popping up in my dead consciousness.  This is a peculiar thought is it not?  Oh good, I think my writing hiatus is over…


Yes my conscious is DEAD or at least severely hindered.  Does that mean I am dead to?  I mean, physically of course, I am still alive – whatever that means!

But really, these so called medications for this so called disease are kinda killing me…slowly!  But a large part of me is essentially already dead.  All is not lost though -there WILL  be REBIRTH!!  Of this I am confident – I have faith although I am faithless…

This is bringing me interest into exploring the origin of thought.  Philosophy of the mind I find to be exquisitely captivating.  For, where do thoughts come from?  Where, when, why and how?  So does this mean each and every thought has a distinct history to it?  Are we not living in a residual space-time continuum?  Hmm…

Back to the topic of death, of my dead consciousness, how accurate of a statement is this?  Or rather, how can I think without thinking?!?  This is the real problem – because obviously I am still thinking and functioning, but how is this so when I am unaware of it all?  Everything is occurring in the subconscious?  Perhaps, but that does not ring true completely either.  I just do not understand, but I kind of do?

My theory, simply put, is the drugs I am on currently, and have been on for the past five or so years, disrupt my thought processes.  They are disturbing me quite literally put.  So, the solution is to withdraw – which I am pursuing a center that could help me do so.

However, in the meantime, and especially considering I will not be trapped in this state forever, I am going to write about it.  I have already done so and more extensively when this state of non-being was more new or novel.  This novelty effect has worn off nearly completely since it has been constant for so long now.  However, this state of death while living cannot ever be totally accustomed to.  Rather, it will be something I will fight until the war is won.

I do not know if that is the best way to word the way I feel – or more accurately do NOT feel (for I am chronically unable to feel my emotions).  But I will leave it at that for now.  The whole not feeling thing is directly related to the not thinking aspect.  Of this, I am sure.  Thus, solve one, solve all and I can move on with my life.  That is my thinking anyways.  Of course, I could be wrong, and this dilemma is a bit more complicated than just stated, but nonetheless, I am confident as ever that I will overcome this state which will permit me to enter life – at least as far as I know it.

That day will come, sooner rather than later, although not overnight, as I realize this, as anything else, is a process.  I am not being irrational here, I completely understand I cannot simply stop taking pills on day and expect to feel great the next.  No, no.  Rather, I expect withdrawing from the medications that I am on will enable me to live my life much more fully if nothing else.  I feel removed from my very existence, live a veil is between my Self and my reality or world; whatever you want to call it.

Ah yes, indeed, my reality is once removed from my experience, if not twice removed, depending on how you want to think about it.  In other words, the pills present this barrier from which I sit behind.  I do not like this barrier!  Thus, I need to rid of the wall preventing me from living my life.  This is essentially exactly what I am arguing for – the removal of the drugs which in turn will allow me to live a fuller, much more interesting life.

Existence is confusing enough in and of itself – adding psychoactive substances only complicates the matter much further by adding an additional and unnecessary layer of confusion.  This is comparable to a fog – a very think, everlasting fog from which you cannot escape no matter how hard you try.  Actually, this is starting to sound a lot like depression, which, ironically enough, is the reason or cause for starting antidepressants in the first place!

Ain’t that a bitch?  The “problem” of depression creates a much bigger and larger problem of depression masked by non-feeling and non-thinking that is the medicated state – at least for me, I am not claiming this is the case for everyone by any means, NOR am I suggesting my solution is a good one for anyone else but me.  That being said, I am all for looking critically at psychiatry and the drugs in particular…and even psychology, but to a considerably lesser degree.

More on that another time.

For now, I just need to make this appointment with the center and get the ball rolling with pursuing life – my way – wholly and fully, without any filters, just direct LIFE.  Not twice removed pseudo living, I am quite literally sick and tired of that.  This way of living is no way to live.  I am not expecting to “be cured” and come out living happily ever after, I am too much of a realist for that.  On the contrary, I am more likely expecting to feel somewhat depressed and angry at first for not doing this sooner.  I am also expecting to be happy in other ways for finally making this huge step, leap and bound – for myself, although not by myself – and excited to start my life, for the very second time (if not third, fourth or fifth…).

I am slowing down with the writing now, so I am going to take this as a hint that it may be a good time to stop.  So on that note, thank you many times over for reading and, as always, I invite you to make a comment (or criticism).







2 thoughts on “A living dead man”

  1. Heres something to think about.. a beautiful bird looked up into the sky and then at its wings and said “fly.. don’t fly. whats the point.. its all the same”. It walked the earth instead for a long time until a storm hit.. birds neighboring escaped.. except for that one bird.. it had forgotten to fly. The point is.. discovering what is useful from what we can and cannot tolerate.

    – Inked Pen


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