I want to be hanged.
Not hung. I’m not looking to break into porn pictures. I mean hanged, as in at the end of a rope. I want to die.
Remember when life used to be fun? When was the last time it was really fun? When I was young. I had the future ahead of me, I was starting out in my academic career as a university student. We were invincible, you know? Indestructable. And then all my hair fell out. And it fell out fast. Each day, I was pulling clumps of it out just by running my fingers through it, and all of my newly budding confidence went with it. At that prime age, when we are just figuring out who we really are, meeting the people we are supposed to spend our lives with, my confidence was taken from me by genetics. And confidence is everything.
As an aside, let me just say that I have finally come to grips with being a bald human. But I am constantly chagrined at how the bald are somehow the only group of people it is still okay to make fun of. In this annoying age of humorless woke-ism, people can still make cracks like, “When I look at you, I’m thinking’ ‘cue ball in the side pocket.'” On TV sitcoms and sketch comedy shows, you can berate a person for being bald. Here’s one example:
Or this more recent jab:
There are countless others. Imagine substituting the word “bald” with “Black” or “Asian” or “handicapped.” The outrage would be endless. When Will Smith slapped Chris Rock for making a joke about Jada Pinkett Smith’s alopecia, a medical condition that causes hair loss, I felt Smith over-reacted, but just the same, I felt that his anger was justified. I get offended when I see people who have full heads of hair shave their head because they can always grow it back. They are appropriating a look that I and millions of others cannot escape. And don’t suggest wigs or hair transplants to me as I think we can all agree they are not workable substitutes.
Getting back to my main point, I want to die. I finally did recover my confidence, but I will not take advantage of it. In this day and age, it simply will not do for a man — any man — to approach a strange woman and engage her in conversation. The #metoo movement made it clear that the ball is now solely in the lady’s court. And besides, at my age and with my disfigurement, it’s no longer charming. I’m just a creep.
Don’t worry. As I have said before, suicide is not an option for me. I can’t accept it as I do believe we are meant to be a part of this simulation, whatever the fuck it is, until it is decided by the forces beyond our comprehension that our role is completed, and we can depart. So, I have to sit here in this wrinkly, hairy, freckly old bald man’s body, and wait. And I have to keep taking care of myself, living alone, watching the world go on around me, trapped in this decaying meat pod like a rotting November porch pumpkin.
And so yes, I ask myself and whatever those unseen forces may be, “When can I die?” and yes, I ask this quite frequently. On average, I ask this question now anywhere between five and fifteen times a day. And I still have gotten no response.
In closing, let me just say one quick thing about these unseen forces beyond our physical perceptions (you can read more about them in many, many posts on this blog): I do think they are close to revealing something big. The human race is about to take another major evolutionary step. We are approaching an event horizon. Then again, maybe I am only sensing my own approaching demise. Still, if you all do eventually manage direct communication with this Entity I call “It,” remember your place. Remember that we are yet infants. Be respectful, but never say “Thank you” as it implies a debt. Merely say “We appreciate your guidance.” And make sure no entity approaches without being bound by a sincere promise of friendship and honesty because — believe me — these entities do take such things seriously and do consider themselves bound by these stipulations if they are stated clearly. It’s not all benevolent. There is real evil out there, just as there is here in our world. And there are also many benign entities who may just fuck with you for fun.
And remember: It is much, much more concerned with the way we treat our natural environment, and those that do not respect nature and protect it will face a severe reprimand. And move away from all things that make use of nuclear fission — especially nuclear weapons. I cannot tell you how much they *HATE* those. These weapons don’t just damage our world. They are considered an act of war on all sides of the veil.
Well, I guess that’s all for now. I’m gonna go leave out a plate of cookies for the Grim Reaper and go to bed. Hopefully, this time I will wake up elsewhere.
Final Thought: Back in my freshman year of college, I went on a Vision Quest. The Grateful Dead had just passed through the area, and so my hippie buddies and I all had weed and mushrooms. While my friends opted to take their mushrooms and go to a Pink Floyd laser show on campus, I took mine up into the hills around our little college town to commune with “It.” I wanted to find my purpose in life, I was asking for guidance. What should I do with my life? What happened that night is a long story, but I did not end up with the Meaning of Life. My night ended in the dark, in a torrential downpour, soaked, standing in front of the church my family had attended when I was a child, and admitting defeat. I remember saying, “Well, God, I went looking for the answers to my life’s big questions, and now, I just want to know what time it is.” And I looked down at the rain-wet street and there, lying right in front of my soaked shoes, was a Timex digital watch with the correct time on it. I kept that watch and called it my Booby Prize. It was as though God (“It”) was saying to me, “Well, you didn’t win the big prizes, but no one goes home empty-handed!”
Part of me hopes that if I do succeed in waking up elsewhere, I will wake up back on that hilltop, ‘shrooming my face off, and watching the dying blue-flame embers of my little campfire, and yet retaining all of the knowledge of this weird journey. Then I can wrap up my blanket and wander back down the hill to campus… and do it right for a fucking change.
thecontemplativeape 