The Suicide Artist

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic


My dear fellow,
I do not know what to say. I think I am going mad. Inside me is a desire/a need to write something/to do something, but each time I try I am left dissatisfied and heartbroken. I don’t know where this feeling comes from but I just wished it left my body. You may not know what to say, or think this isn’t a big deal or something, and fine, you can think what you like, but I am telling you: this is killing me. This morning I woke up with so much desire/wanting to do something but with no outlet that I almost went mad. I swear to you. I keep looking back at my old stuff to satisfy this need, anything, but this makes me feel even more sick, and yet I cannot stop! Do you have any recommendations? I keep waiting for something to come up, something to burst out of me, but nothing ever does… Sometimes I want to scream but what good will this ever do me? Some people say it will do you good just to let it out but what are you letting out? A scream? I want to scream out my soul, not a shrill voice which I don’t recognise as my own. I want to share my soul to the world, so that they know who I am, know where I stand, but no one ever hears me. It is the most difficult task, to restrain yourself, to stop yourself from going mad. You may think I am already mad but I do not think so. Otherwise why would I feel such pain? Why would I wake up every morning with agony in my soul? You may ask what spawns this letter. Why should I tell you this now? Well, old fellow, that is a good question. Maybe it is because I tried to write something this morning, and it was so bad and futile, I made so much effort for nothing, that I absolutely stared at myself in the soul, and suddenly I knew what it was, what it was that I was suffering, I could put words around it, I could describe it, and I knew I had to tell someone before it went, before I deluded myself again into thinking that everything was fine and I will get there someday, and if I am patient enough, if I try to do good and be a good Christian and all of that, good things will come to me and someone will hear my voice. But no, I do not believe in that anymore. I can see that I am gone. There is nothing else to it, unless… unless unless nothing!, there is nothing else to it. I write this to you to ask: when will I be going mad? What do you think I should do? Kill myself? At least that will be an expression of something. People won’t know of what, but at least they will know he was feeling something, something must have driven him to do this, and that is more than I will ever get. And so that is why I am seriously considering suicide. Because it is my best chance at being an artist. What do you think? Should I do it? Anyways I shall stop now because I think I have answered my own question. Thanks for the help old fellow. You have been very helpful in delineating my artistic career. Ever yours, my dear fellow

– The Suicide Artist

 


Submitted: May 17, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Theo Villepo. All rights reserved.

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The Mind Breaker

A little hard to follow but I can relate to your lack of purpose because I was once like you. Assuming this is a non-fiction piece. I will tell you not to kill yourself. Go on living because God has clearly abandoned you. My master does abandon his chosen. For fresh insights why not take a look at some of my published work? You may find that which you seek!

Mon, May 17th, 2021 5:42pm

Author
Reply

Haha this is purely fictional. Many times young artists feel like they must 'suffer' to produce good art. And so suicide is almost romanticized. That state of mind was what I was specifically referring to in my piece.



Mon, May 17th, 2021 11:40am

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