(I cannot think of a truly appropriate title)
Before I begin, I'd just like to state that I do not believe in God as an entity, but rather as a concept that exists to spark hope into those still able to believe him.
I haven't particularly had any normal suicidal thoughts, (by normal, I mean what I believe could be considered stereotypical). Instead I'll sometimes (only when alone however) just think of how much easier it would be to just kill myself, I acknowledge the fact that I am loved/cared for and I would be missed, but selfish thoughts of naive realism often persist in my head (If I no longer exist to perceive them, then they cannot care). I have no real trouble's in my life that I am aware of (besides whatever depression/joy I feel as a result of my perceived loneliness), however recently I've been having problems with motivation, I see no sure positive reason for living in the future, only possibilities, and even those have little to no appeal. I consider death to be similar to sleep, in the sense that the body may grow weary, and then all that follows is oblivion.
It's rare I give a real smile to anyone these days, I will simply give friends a courtesy laugh or smile, to keep them comfortable. The only things that still keep me truly comfortable is, music, pictures I sometimes talk to (Just as a religious person may speak to Jesus, or pictures of a deceased loved one), and the movie All About Lily Chou Chou.
I apoligise if it comes off as complex, I often get lost in my own thought and this is usually present in my writing, however I myself am often unaware of it.
Before I begin, I'd just like to state that I do not believe in God as an entity, but rather as a concept that exists to spark hope into those still able to believe him.
I haven't particularly had any normal suicidal thoughts, (by normal, I mean what I believe could be considered stereotypical). Instead I'll sometimes (only when alone however) just think of how much easier it would be to just kill myself, I acknowledge the fact that I am loved/cared for and I would be missed, but selfish thoughts of naive realism often persist in my head (If I no longer exist to perceive them, then they cannot care). I have no real trouble's in my life that I am aware of (besides whatever depression/joy I feel as a result of my perceived loneliness), however recently I've been having problems with motivation, I see no sure positive reason for living in the future, only possibilities, and even those have little to no appeal. I consider death to be similar to sleep, in the sense that the body may grow weary, and then all that follows is oblivion.
It's rare I give a real smile to anyone these days, I will simply give friends a courtesy laugh or smile, to keep them comfortable. The only things that still keep me truly comfortable is, music, pictures I sometimes talk to (Just as a religious person may speak to Jesus, or pictures of a deceased loved one), and the movie All About Lily Chou Chou.
I apoligise if it comes off as complex, I often get lost in my own thought and this is usually present in my writing, however I myself am often unaware of it.