If the call to God isn't answered, I'll answer you.
I have lived for nothing, I always knew I had no purpose. I should become a monk and surrender myself to the mountains where I look down on everyone I have ever known and see how good they are doing without me, knowing I can't ever go back. Otherwise, I'll let myself down again, and the guilt will be unbearable.
With this new found path, I'll surrender to myself and to the earth and to the god that is not God, and maybe finally by understanding that I own nothing and no one, I won't feel missed out. I'll lose my desires, and I'll reach my nirvana. I'll become Buddha, and I'll die soundly. Maybe in this alternate fate, I die of starvation from a hunger strike fueled by my disappointment from all the injustices in this material world, or perhaps my attempt to replicate Buddha's legacy of starvation simply manifested itself to an unfortunate fate.
Secretly, this death would be a self-murder, but my suffering would make it worth something: something honorable. People will think so, too, and when they find my dead body, they will be impressed by my dedication. Then, I'll become another idol, someone to look up to and worship. They will make a shrine of me. They will stare at what's left of me— skin and bones or the statues with eyes disgustingly like mine— and they will make a religion out of me. Thousands of years from now, they will tell people that I had starved to death for them, and so they must kneel before me. They will do so and behave accordingly, because they are my descendants and all we know how to do is listen and be quiet and let life slip away, with whispers in the back of our minds telling us this is not what we want and that there's more out there.
When you call for God, I'll answer. I'll tell you "regret weighs heavier than sin."
baratheonpilled
gummygunk
janainaart
kianamaiart
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
