On the rationality of suicide

Regret – my father has a lot of it. I guess he regretted his decision to never attend graduate school because of the birth of my brother. Maybe ultimately he regretted marrying my mother; I don’t know if this is the case but I’m certain he must at least be aware of the repercussions of marrying a Chinese woman.

Regret is stupid, and I’ve always known it. To live in constant fear really isn’t a good way to live. To realize the wonderful things that you have is the way to live, and to accept death and to even take it into your own hands is the truest, most absolute freedom a man can experience.

Why did I start writing this? At the beginning it was sort of a cry for help, but now, I just so this for myself. In writing this I have worked my way through so many issues that I finally feel as if I’m ready, and I feel, in a way, happier than I have ever felt since I was born.

I have experienced an interesting life; one in between worlds. I always was perplexed and disheartened by the moral decadence in America. I always thought “God” would eventually come and restore order; I came to china to wait it out, or at least to lose myself, to commit a spiritual suicide. But here I learned that I really never was quite white, nor as Chinese as I thought. I was neither, only just me, and in being me, I have had a great and wonderful life. On my bucket list I have accomplished literally everything that I wanted to accomplish, and I have found in this tiny apartment in the middle of the biggest city in the world, a small, small piece of quiet and solitude and happiness.

But I know now that it isn’t god that brought me here, just circumstance that was half luck, half insanity, and that there is no escaping the prison that I have created for myself. But unlike my father I feel no regret. The issue of my parentage is only one thing; I know for a fact that regardless of any question of character or personality that women are biologically driven to height, and more so to white men, and I can never have exactly the same pull as my father had, the same pull that created me. I know for a fact that many asian women, once they become too old, try to trick asian men into marriage, never forgetting the pure animal lust they had for white men as young women; and had my mother birthed me by an asian man or white man this fact remains that a desirability of a man is immutable and based in race and height and other genetic cues. Accepting this is core to my being.

And, as a result, I see really no other option in life but to end it; I really don’t, and I find that life is too much struggle and sadness when dealing with the present and future, more so than it is worth continuing living. Some men press on, because they owe it to their mothers. Mine is dead, and even if she were alive I do not think I could face her knowing what I know now. I guess some men, in the face or horrible crippling loneliness, still have the love of their mothers to help them endure, but I really have nothing.

I have accepted suicide as a certainty. My entire thoughts burn with it even when I speak with others and walk the street. It is the one thing I have known my whole life that brings me a peace like no other. And why should I fear it? I have my beauty to die with, my love, my art, my happiness, and most of all my dignity knowing that I will never be goddamn bested by some racist whore like my mother or aunts or cousins, my dignity to know that nobody will ever be able to hurt me or my memory of myself or that which I leave people that I influenced in my life; my dignity knowing that I willingly destroyed myself to fight the terrible evil of this world. And what better way to destroy evil than to destroy ones own consciousness? The whole world dies with my mind, doesn’t it?

As I said, my mind is consumed with my desire to die, and it even appears in my dreams. Call me insane but my own beauty and my own work makes me feel even more happy knowing that I died having such wealth that nobody can ever take away from me. I really do doubt that my message will make any difference in this world, but I suppose that’s really not even the issue. I do not want to live to be a slave to white men, a slave to any woman, a slave to any kind of sick greed or lust.

This is what I call a rational approach to suicide, where the benefits far outweigh the negatives, the only negatives being the pain I would cause my loved ones; so in a way my life is largely dependent on them and in every single god damn way I am already a dead man walking unless some drastic change in my life comes about in which I am able to pull myself from this prison. Did I make a mistake coming to china? Well, C, did I? That’s a question for another day. It really is. Maybe I will live to see it. FEAR NOTHING, C.

One thought on “On the rationality of suicide

  1. God exists. I cannot prove it. You have an obligation to your children. You can instill in them everything your fathers didn’t for you. You can be a champion in their eyes in a way no one else can ever be.

    Suffer through it, at least for their sake. Don’t you want to be there to keep your son from this kind of misery?


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