"df demystifies" will cease to be TechNews's singular advice column. Modality becomes an outdated notion of pattern recognition. Wherever you or I shall go becomes fractured and the pieces incongruent. What can be done cannot be undone. Inevitably we will join each other but in what form? It will never cease.
I feel it coming on, so this will be our last chance to discuss what’s to come. My suspicions proved themselves to be correct, I did need a higher dosage and already on this new regiment I can see that the process of my dissolution has begun in earnest.
First it was my tongue, turning numb then falling useless out of my mouth. I watched it turn into a sizzling liquid on the floor before evaporating completely. Then, my left foot, it too sloughing off and melting away to nothing. As I type this out my fingers have gone soft, sticking in parts to the keyboard as I write this. It seems though that active attention delays the process, so I have some faith I’ll be able to finish this final project before my physical form is completely gone.
That being said, I’m unsure of what there is to say, what could possibly be said. I am curious to know how they will find me when it’s obvious that I have moved on. Will it be a sludge, the pink goo I dreamed so often about, or will the process be more complete, will this written account be all that is left?
My left leg is gone now, I heard a squelch and looked down to see nothing remaining but a barely coherent membrane where a body part may have once been. I am tempted to reach down and touch it, but I do not want to tempt fate and disrupt what could easily be something quite delicate. In any case: I have to remain focused one last time, try and push out the circumstances of my mind and body to finish the work. After all, reader, I’ve only ever done this for you.
The jokes, the self-recrimination, the mindless rambles, it’s all been for you, the one still reading this. Creation is selfish, it presupposes what you have to offer is of some use to people, it takes up resources and time and then demands that others engage with it. It is the ultimate act of navel-gazing, and you’ve been very polite to play along.
It should be self-evident, then, that the destruction of the self is the ultimate form of charity. To become no longer is the final admission that existence is a drain on both the environment and those around you; that the audacity on insisting on being around is the act of violence inherent in life. Personhood is the original sin, and it is through seeking physical nothingness that you are redeemed.
It is at long last that the end is upon me, upon this. I will submit this, close my eyes, and let the final tethers of my form unravel into nothing. What awaits for my mind, I do not know. I just know I am ready.
Goodbye and, perhaps, later days.
Tune in to "are we cool yet?" broadcast live midnight - 1 a.m. every Wednesday morning exclusively on WLPN 105.5FM. I will be there, intermingled in that resonating field, the miracle of radiation suffusing wanted or unwanted. All that glitters in the mind's eye will reveal itself to be illusory and you will feel worse for it. Abandon epistemology, it has no use where we’re going.