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I Just Poored My Depression Into Emacs
You stand nearly motionless in a court. It doesn't matter if you did anything, or if you're there by mistake. The judge and the jury finds you guilty and the reality of the situation doesn't matter anymore. You will be executed. What would be your last few weeks? What would be your last day? What would it taste like to eat your last meal? What would it feel like to walk towards the execution room? What would feel like to stand there while the officers put a bag on your head? What would feel like to die?
Like it or not, but every one of us will die at some point. Some will die peacefully and some will be killed. You could die in war, or in a terrorist attack. You could die from a disease or from suicide. You could die in the next minute, or you could die within a century from now. But there is one certainty. You will die.
The grim reality of this, while truly disturbing, is not the most disturbing, though. How much time during a day you sleep? How much of life wasted unconscious? If you will die tomorrow what could other people say about you? You are the person that slept through the life? You are the person that procrastinated most of the time? You are the pervert that couldn't stop masturbating?
Life is a miserable thing which ends with an even more miserable thing - death. All your life, all you do are mistakes. There was never a person ever that was correct. Newton thought that he knew the nature of the universe until relativity proved him wrong. Until quantum physics proved it wrong. Whatever we believe in today is wrong. And we don't know if we are moving towards understanding more or towards deluding ourselves.
You probably have ideas of something great. It could be a grand project or a family, or proposing to that girl you like. Or taking that chance you've been offered. Or finally cleaning your room. But you sit there and read an article written by a dumbass who cannot stop procrastinating himself.
We don't know what death looks like for the dead. We assume that it will just be calm blackness without feeling anything. That if you are killed quickly, it's merciful. But in reality death could be much worse than that.
There is a disease when the two halves of a person's brain are separated. From the outside, to a casual observer, almost nothing seems wrong about the person. But inside there are two different distinct personalities at odds with each. If one part of the brain is responsible for recognizing faces and the other for recognizing speech, for example, the person will simultaneously talk with a person he had never seen and see a person that he had never talked with.
But what is death? A damage of a brain severe enough to stop functionality. But who said that all functionality stops in the same time? Perhaps you are paralyzed. Completely. You can no longer control your body, breath, heart, what have you. The body falls and becomes a rag doll. But perhaps you can still hear and see?
What if a part in your brain that recognizes faces has decomposed, but you can still see overall shapes of people? You can still hear and partially understand what they are talking about. You can still maybe even feel pain. Especially, probably, from the parts of the brain that are still functioning. Dying has to be an intense head ache.
There could be that there is an autopsy done on you. You are dead by the living people's standards, so they cut you open. But you know that they do it to you. You can't move your eyes to see them do it. But you can hear them. You can see the ceiling of the morgue. You can maybe even feel the cold from the refrigerator in which you are kept.
You will be praying from inside for them to notice you. To stop cutting you. Maybe somebody from them will not give up and rescue you from death. You will be praying to them that you know that it's possible to restore a person from this. Because you are experiencing it right now. And therefor you are not dead. That's what your logic ( if the part of the brain responsible for logic will still works ) will tell you.
This will happen to you. Since you will most definitely die at some point. And you can't possibly know when it will happen. Maybe right this moment. Maybe you will not even finish reading this article. Imagine dying right now and thinking after death that I was right. Perhaps even falling somehow so your eyes would be still focused on the text. And you could still keep reading. Perhaps for a few moments you will even fail to recognize that you are dead. But maybe you will die tomorrow. Or in a year. Or in a decade. Or in a hundred years. Who knows.
I could say that it's up to you. That if you are going to take care of yourself that you can extend your life for as long as you'd like. But so thought those people who died suddenly and unexpectedly from a variety of different things. You cannot control anything. Suddenly something could happen. Perhaps somebody would do something. Or perhaps the nature will decide to stir things up. And there is no longer you. You could drink from a can of soda right now, into which by mistake a drop of poison was put. You could go pee and slip on the floor of the toilet bagging your head on something hard enough. You could do nothing and be careful about every move of yours. Double check everything. And be killed by a bullet coming into your window, from a policeman that shot a warning shot in the air. You could stay away from the windows and get under a rabble of your own house with a sudden earth quake. Anything could happen. And it could happen right now.
I feel like there has to be something good about it. Some message that can be said. I want to write how you can think about what is remaining of your life. And how you can try making the best of it. But I know that it's not going to happen. You will still make mistakes. You will still procrastinate. You will still be a selfish and terrible person. You will still be a masturbating pervert when you had time to do something useful. You will still say words that will make people loose trust in you. And you will still blame others. Taking credit only for good things you've done. And some times for thing you didn't do. And I will do all those things too. And we will live miserably ever after. Until we both die.
Miserable Hacking!
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