(at least, for me [ i think ], these are amongst those which I wish I could remember to tell the Psychiatrists, et al.)

I find, I’m not altogether unhappy with myself; the things of who I am (diseased disposition, disregarding), for it is not I at all– but the things which are Imposed upon me– the misery, the suffering, the things of the world which bring me down to contemplating suicide.

For example, while tidying today (haha– if you know me– you’ll laugh by tidying), I found something of a guitar-student, something of– whatever it was– and I was pleased, very much delighted by this record of what positive influence I’ve had on him; others; etc., and the music (i.e. sOna [US], e-Nation, and with Jason George, etc.), and I reflect upon the pleasantries of these things, and the impact upon the world, far beyond my meagre existence, and far beyond my wants, and dislikes, and etc., and I believe suicide, although as the song lyrics suggests “Suicide is Painless”, is a very selfish thing.

So, what is one to do?
Gimme pills, i say. Keep ’em coming.

“…3!…4!..
Wish I was
Ocean Size
….
it ain’t easy livin’…. ”