We were in a state of perfection before we existed – that’s what the Gnostics said. Imagine it! A world without us. Where we had never been born. And, better still: imagine the state of perfection before the world existed. Before anything existed.
Absolute calm. Deep sleep. The dreaming calm. Dreaming of all the things that might be, but aren’t. Dreaming of the possibility of things that could be, but aren’t. Dreaming of the world that could come, but might not. And falling back into itself again, perfect.
Just … non existence. Just nothingness. Turning in itself. Before anything. In some deep sleep. Untroubled. And turning in its sleep.
We’re contemplative of the nothing. Of absolute calm.
The nonexistence of things: that’s what concerns us. The nothingness at the heart of it all.
The creation was a mistake. Our being born: a metaphysical affront. That we exist: a terror. A horror.
Judgement has been passed upon our lives. We have merely to carry out the sentence.
We know what we have to do. Killing ourselves would unconfuse things. Would clear our heads.
Suicide: our declaration of independence. From the world! From everything!
We are in no one’s power when death is in our power, and all that.
We were brought into the world. Isn’t that terrible enough? Isn’t that already a crime – a terrible crime?
We’ll be God’s exterminating angels for him. We’ll exterminate ourselves.
Work in Progress 