For the uninitiated, packet loss is a term used in computer networking to refer to the loss of data packets when communicating between two computer systems or networks. There are some ways in which packet loss can be considered analogous to the way in which I struggle in life.
When writing I know the exact shape that the letters should take, I know exactly how my body should move in order to transfer ink to paper in such a manner to have the words take perfect form, yet I find myself unable to scrawl them down in a commonly legible manner. My fingertips miss the finer details of the motions and as a result the words become sloppy and unrecogniseable to those who have not taken time to decipher my script in the past.
An explanation of my thoughts and understanding may rest firmly in my mind in perfect form, yet my mouth betrays me. I become unable to send the words from consciousness to voice, unable even to express their sentiment.
For the last few years I’ve held off my suicidal urges by reminding myself how death effects those around it, I wouldn’t hurt my friends and family like that while alive so what gives me the right to do it by dying? At least if I were to hurt them like that while alive I could take action to ease the suffering it would cause.
The thing with hearing the same moral argument over and over again is that it eventually becomes banal and meaningless. It’s now something I tell people to help them understand, and when I am gone perhaps they will realise that I put all I could into staying here for them.
I’m sorry, but I’m not strong enough to remain here indefinitely, even for them. There are a few prior commitments I must fulfil then I’ll quietly step out into the night and embrace the eternal darkness.
I don’t know what it is but something feels different. It’s like a presence has been lifted and it took some of the deeper scars of my past with it. The fresh ones are still here and so are most of the old ones, but a few of the more sinister wounds have healed.
It almost feels peaceful in my head, like I can just stay in this moment and ride the wave of serenity. But I know where that wave will lead me. The jagged rocks below the surface will break it into a violent and choppy broil which will cast me down onto the cruel and twisted island that my mind calls home, just as it has countless times before. This short reprieve won’t go unappreciated though; I’ll make the most of it and enjoy myself as much as I can before the storm returns bringing the old clouds with it.
Last night I prayed to a god I don’t believe in. I prayed for the pain the ease up for just a moment. I prayed for the mental anguish to fade away. I prayed for the voices to stop and their noise to be obscured into nothing but a memory. I prayed for the icy blood to stop pumping through my veins. I prayed for her to be better because that’s what she deserves. I prayed for this to be the last bottle she had to throw. I put my heart into an idea which to me feels like nothing but a way for people to control others because I have nothing left to try. It was a last minute chance like a dying dog getting sudden energy to chase a stick one last time.
Today I did nothing. I just sat in my chair staring at the desktop screen of my laptop trying to think of something to do but finding no inspiration. I feel empty, like all desire and drive is gone. I miss having purpose and wanting to do things, but now everything seems pointless. I can’t help but think about how meaningless everything is; we are not capable of meaningful actions because anything we do will be forgotten. We live and we consume then we die. Our existence doesn’t span more than a few moments in the grand scheme of things so why does it matter? Soon the world will be consumed by the sun exploding as it dies and there will be no record of human existence other than a few pieces of debris in space and the odd radio signal yet to die off. It’s strange how my mind feels both empty and bursting at the seams at the same time, but in some way it feels like that’s how things should be.
Today my mother said I sounded just like him when I said something. She doesn’t know what you did so had no reason to understand that hearing it would hurt, but that doesn’t change the reaction in my mind.
In that moment all that I wanted to do was reach into my skin and dig around till I found a vein, then pull it and watch as the lattice of connected blood vessels rose to the surface only to tear and spill the fluid that had been keeping me alive.
I wanted to reach into my chest and pull out my lungs, squeezing them until every last puff of air had left then watch my body slowly shut down step by step as it ran out of oxygen.
I wanted to pull apart the atoms in my every cell, leaving no bonds unbroken so that I could never be anything like him ever again.
My CPU is running at 110% of the natural capacity, never dropping back into the range of its natural capability and it’s threatening to burn out. Constantly humming as it runs through calculations of possible future, past and present perceptions of the world. The better ones are always there just out of reach, mocking reality through the harsh glass of recent events. The reflections of the past glaring at me covering what could have been in a sinister haze of what can never be.
This is all done in the background, to the observer there is nothing going on, no visible windows just the deafening sound of the processor running overtime. If this continues immolation will be inevitable, the candle is being burned on both ends and there is no wind that can extinguish it.