THE ULTIMATE ORGASM OF LIFE IS DEATH.

Today something finally inspired me. Something finally drove me to write. To release these thoughts to a public sphere that may help me organize them into something coherent and maybe something less tragic. But I feel utter tragedy nearing. I feel Shakespearean and as I look into the mirror I feel more and more like a murdering bastard. I see Lady Macbeth. Out Out you damn spot, damned spot I say out! But I am already tainted. Stained. Ruined.

In my solitude these past few weeks I have started to loath myself again. Returning to an unhealthy solitude and pushing myself further away from the contacts that can take me out of this self-inflicted inferno. Lately, for some reason the thought of having human contact with anyone makes me cringe. The only contacts welcomed are those of cyberspace, the space where I am simultaneously near and far to humanity. Work has been especially unbearable because i am so sick of pretending I'm happy being a card slave. I have sold my soul to papyrus and my blood has dried on the creases of each birthday and holiday wish.

"Unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top full Of direst cruelty; make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall"

I want not to feel.

I want to defy the natural order of humankindness.

I want to be hallow.

I want to detach myself from everything that makes me woman.

I want to murder all my inclinations to love.

I don't want to need love.

And yet at my lowest points that is all I can think of.

I have driven myself mad with lovers malady and yet with cupids constant torment, I crave it. Am i just a masochist? Wanting cupid to continue finding novel methods of torture, to lock me away in a lovers torture chamber and let him do with me what he wills?

I am uncertain.

In the absence of love, its good and its bad, not feeling bliss nor heartache just deep hollowness, I lack drive. I haven't gone to the gym all month. I haven't dieted all month. I haven't job searched all month. I haven't open my GRE books all month. I have done nothing but complain. My days go in and out with such lack of meaning that I might as well be dead. Am I not already dead?

In my pseudo-suicidal thoughts a sign came to me.

My sister calls me to tell me that a very good friend of hers whom I have heard about for most of my youth, had passed. He was only 42.

I kept saying "wow" but in all honesty was detached from her experience. Momentarily the thought had erased from my mind.

God doesn't give up. He made sure I was going to get the hint. Even if it meant his face in a burning bush.

My personal trainer texts me to ask me why I haven't been to the gym in so long. He was worried. When I told him about my lack of motivation he told me sometimes we have to make ourselves live even when we want to give up. He confided in me that he wanted to give up because his brother had just passed. But he wouldn't allow himself to drown in the sorrows of his loss.

As if that weren't enough. I insensitively text one of my best friends to bash her about the cloud of death that follows her, seeming to forget that her brother had died just a year ago and that in a week would be the anniversary of his death.

I have become Lady Macbeth.

In wanting to be her, to become insensitive, to no longer feel...I have lost touch with the things that make me human.

That was primitive of me.

That was so demonic.

Double double toil and trouble

Fire burn and cauldron bubble

I'm a [B]-witch.

I have to wake up and smell the potion. I am here on this earth, alive and I should consider myself so lucky not only am I alive but the people I love are too. How strong are these people, my pt, my bf, to endure the loss of their brothers. And I grew scared noticing that DOUBLE DOUBLE HAS TOILED IN TROUBLE...double brothers...and prayed that my brother would be okay. I had just came back from his house and he was not well. And he just turned 43 this week...and the previous death was of a 42 year old, a heart attack, something my brother is susceptible to for multiple reasons including heredity and weight. I was desperate to go see him yesterday, uncertain the reason why.

And I wonder if this lack of passion, this lack of love, would come to an end with the tragic death of my brother. If maybe this would give me the solution to lack of feeling. The greatest heartbreak. The most intense emotion. The most unconditional everlasting love. and the ultimate orgasm of life---death.