Pon-E suicide funk


                                            Hey, did you know?

                                            According to recent data, 50% of the population will develop cancer within their lifetime. 70% of retirement home residents are suffering from dementia.

                                            That's what you have to look forward to.

                                            A dull life of wageslaving, ending in steady mental and physical deterioration, until all that remains of you is a drooling wreck pissing and shitting itself in a moldy room somewhere, not even aware enough to beg for death.

                                            Ain't that something?

                                            But when it comes down to it, isn't awareness the problem here?

                                            By the time you end up in that room, won't you be beyond caring?

                                            But that doesn't take away from the horror of the situation, right?

                                            If you think about it, isn't dying a quick death at a young age preferable?

                                            Of course it is. That's why you stood on your balcony so many times, gazing at the street below.

                                            That's why you took a long look at the razor blades by your sink whenever you took a shower.

                                            But in the end, you never took the plunge, never drew the cold metal down your arms. It's true that dying old scares you, but actively ending your life is something you are uncomfortable with as well.

                                            You truly are a coward.

                                            But now, you hold the solution in your hands.

                                            Those little pills promise salvation.

                                            Not sleeping pills, no. You are not quite that gauche. You might be a sad sack of shit, but at least you are not a slave to clichés.

                                            The colorful little buddies you hold in your hand are the hottest designer drug on the market, promising escape from the burdens of humanity for a limited time.

                                            Of course, everyone is making kind of a big deal about the danger posed by a potential overdose.

                                            As if being unable to return to being a human would be so bad.

                                            There are neither cancer nor dementia statistics for ponies.

                                            Of course, there might be other health issues to drive a hypochondiac worrywart like yourself mad with desperation.

                                            Which is why you'll just have to try extra hard to become an animal in spirit and mind as well.

                                            If you behave like a big dumb dog long enough, maybe you'll be able to forget you were ever human in the first place.

                                            And in that blessed ignorance you crave so much, you'll find your nirvana.

                                            You'll swallow the whole bottle.

                                            If two pills are enough to change your body forever, maybe taking even more will help transform your innermost soul as well.

                                            It's quite beautiful in a way, isn't it?

                                            You get to erase that loathsome mind you hate so much and become something better, something purer.

                                            At least, and at last, something else.

                                            It's almost an apotheosis, a rebirth without true death.

                                            And yet, standing there, holding that bottle of pills, you are not too dissimilar from so many other depressed wastes of life, putting a ´shotgun to their skulls and preparing to make their grey matter into a Jackson Pollock piece.

                                            You were always too much of a wimp to go out like that.

                                            But this, you can do.

                                            Even a coward like you.

                                            So what are you waiting for?

                                            Pull the fucking trigger.