What is the best way to die? Think of an answer before proceeding. Don't worry, you will not be graded.

The other day, one of the kids from dance class remarked that the best way to die is in your sleep. That remark struck me as, well, rather off the mark. Once again, the question of teleology is of the utmost importance. What is man's purpose? What is his end?

This boy's remark is entirely understandable. We live in an increasingly hedonistic society. More often than not, happiness is reduced to banal pleasure, pleasure of the somatic sort. As our culture dives deeper into the mad rush of sensations, we are dragged with it, and our lives (if we offer no resistance) become more centered around self-indulgence. Our greatest enemy become suffering and pain, and that is what we fear the most.

Why did this boy say the best way to die is in your sleep? Death is the ultimate suffering, the final wrenching of the soul from the body. From our cultural viewpoint, what is best is what causes the most pleasure/least pain. As far as death is concerned, if you go while you're unconscious, you'll never have to suffer through the experience. Is the escape from pain the best thing for man? Is this the best way to die?

What do you say the best way to die is? What does that say about what you believe?

I am in my perfect little world, there’s a live band playing “Begin the Beguine” and I’m dancing the Rumba with Miss Perfect. There’s a little tension between us. She wants our relationship to go forward, but I won’t let it. I don’t know why, but somehow I cannot not seem to find the wherewithal to proceed. Her and I take 5 outside.

“Why are you so hesitant?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I respond, knowing exactly what she means.
“You don’t think I can truly love you.”
“That’s not true,” I quickly reply as I begin searching my mind, trying to uncover how she would come to such conclusion.

Her grip on my arm tightens as she pulls closer in towards me. “I know what you’ve done and where you’ve been…” I stare at her in disbelief. No one could ever love me if they knew all the bad things I had done. She continues, “and I love you anyways.”

***************

I wonder if that’s the reason I’m failing at work. I’ve screwed up pretty bad for a few months and now I’m afraid to confront it, feeling that there is ultimately only one response. Rejection. I’m too messed up to repair. I’m the bottom 10%; the sunk cost trap; deadweight. Consign me to the scrap heap and let me rot in the filth I have become. It’s weird, because no one looks at me that way. Only I see it this way, and I seem to be driven to make others see me this way.

Bartlett said that even if I could get a girlfriend (i.e. the possibility presented itself) I would probably push her away. I agreed with him. I would push her away for her sake, because I wouldn’t want to ruin her life.

I’ve got to snap out of this. I’ve spent so many years thinking this way and the toll is so heavy by now, I can no longer achieve anything. I feel driven to failure, to become the human refuse that will justify my self-hatred for what I’ve done, and more importantly, for what I haven’t done. I find it so hard to find a foothold, a foundation wherein to take a step towards the light…. Miss Perfect will not be there to look into my eyes and tell me she loves me and pull me out of my despair. No one will be there. Perhaps I’m wrong, but I’ve never had enough courage to call for help when I despair. I’m afraid they won’t be there. And you know…I’m right. Can you blame them, though? Who wants some empathic vampire sucking the life out of them? I must find something to drive towards, something to latch on to….