Suicide Box

It's an idea I've had for a while. Nothing real, or corporeal in any sense. Not as some subliminal expression of my desires. I really enjoy living, even when it's difficult/painful. A science fictional story, perhaps. Maybe a sf narrative poem. I think that's the best implementation of a sf poem.

But the concept of a suicide box is very cyberpunk, or distopian, or whatever you want to call it. I wouldn't glorify it so much as to call it speculative, unless I put a spin on it where no suicides actually happen.

Along the lines of my idea of a story called "The Perfect Machine" -- not so much a machine that works perfectly, but a machine that creates perfection somehow. Or taking the stark concepts of the poem "Howl" and making a sf world out of it.

I often lack the commitment for fiction. I have a hard time separating ficiton and reality, and when my darker ideas push at me to come out onto paper or screen, it's a challenge. How do I balance the darkness with the real joy I feel in my day-to-day life?

Sometimes it spills out of me, like today. I cry in front of the family, drawing connections between dots that only barely exist. The rain makes my head throb clog, my eyes rolling up into my head. Everything hurts. Everything is pain, painful, embodying regions of my body in a macrocosmic orgy of resentment and shame and aches.

More later, must lay down for a bit.