i wish i would crumble to dust, physically and mentally... ie. that the idea of me crumbled to dust along with my arms and legs.
i want deliverance. i want out, like Agent Smith.
My operational life is definitely not the problem. Operationally my life must be better than the lives of 98% of humanity. I crave not for any other kind of life. It is 'living' by itself that irritates me in these moods.

No i am not merely asking for death. Behind any such suicide wish, looms large the terrifying possibility of some continuing consciousness.
I want deliverance. Not escape to nothingness, because nothingness is another blindingly un-understandable thing.

I want deliverance.. Like "POOF" !

Henceforth, I shall be called POOF. Its a silly name and will take my mind off existential angst..

love,
POOF