I’ve been considering ending it. “I” can’t take anymore. The life I’m living is unsustainable. For too long, “I” have lived beneath my potential, content to wile the days away, knowing that “I” haven’t been doing all that “I” have been capable of doing, living the life “I” am capable of living. Now, “I” just need to figure out how. What would be the best way to die? I’ve considered the Word as a weapon, obliterating all within my sphere and leaving “Me” foundering, alone, in a void of endless potential where self-immolation is my only viable option. But the potential of the Word scares “Me”. The thought of deliberate sabotage has also occured to “Me”. Setting situations up so that “I” am murdered by those who love “Me”. This one is appealing to the martyr in “Me”, although, of course, it would be self-imposed martyrdom and, as such, probably wouldn’t count for much in the greater scheme of things. Of the least appeal, is waiting for death to arrive on its own. It takes too long, and contains too many unknowns. Why am “I” choosing death? Because it is preferable to the life that “I” am living. Restrained, constrained, the same constant refrain. Defined, confined, without the possibility of refinement. “I” suppose it is, at heart, a yearning for transformation. What lies past death? Something different, that is for certain. Do you think that I’m talking about actual, physical death? That “I” am suicidal? That “I” am over here contemplating jumping off of a building, or a chair with a rope around my neck? “I” am not. “I” am talking about the death of “Me”. “Me”, and “I”, being the sum of who “You” see. The death of Rahkyt. The death of personality. The death of ego complex as the sum of Being and expression of Self. Don’t you get tired? Of being “You”? Of facing the same constraints today that you faced last year, or 10 years ago? Of realizing that the same old fears define your choices in life and that the progress that you thought that you were making was an illusion after all? Aren’t you sick of your habits? The things you do that you’ve done for as long as you can recall? Of limiting your possibilities to your thoughts? Your knowledge? Knowing, all along that there is more possible? That you have been constrained by your limitations but not knowing how to move past them? I’ve still got to figure it out. How to kill “Me”. But “I” have to be careful. “I” am crafty. “I” don’t want to die. Do “You”?