Although, I should say first, that to be a dog, as my other posts termed, an owner is required, nonetheless, the crushing loneliness that made me yearn for the arms of a woman passed as subtly as it came. However, there is still in me a sort of soul-crushing depression, not brought from loneliness, but simply out of cluelessness about my place in the world.
As I detailed months, or so, ago, I do find enjoyment and pleasure in being how I am. Being a NEET, having little in way of responsibilities, having the freedom to spend every hour of my day exactly how I want. That freedom is something that, once tasted, is very hard to give up. And yet this lifestyle cannot last forever.
Some would go on about SSI, or joining the military and purposefully getting your leg fucked up or something, but even then, trying to place myself in the future in such a position, still living with my parents, leeching off the government for whatever measly funds they can spare. It may be 'fine' at 20, and it may be 'unnatural' at 30, but at 40 years of age? 50? Perhaps it is pride, but I cannot stand the idea of such a thing. As I mentioned once before, I cannot fathom an individual who could love such a person, and because of that being utterly incomprehensible to me, I cannot love myself were I to become that. That is, a person living off the government and living with their parents at an elderly age.
Still though, if such a path is forbidden to me by me, what other path is there? I could, I suppose, try to find some moderately wealthy woman and try at woo her so I can be her househusband, but just reading that part of this sentence makes me laugh, so I don't imagine that will happen without Fate's hand interfering.
There is also the prospect of getting a job at, say, a library or some such that, preferably, has a living area (with bedroom, kitchen, and bath) as an upstairs. Reminds me a little of the bakery in Clannad. Now that would be quite ideal. Still, though, finding a job alone in this economy, from what I hear, is particularly difficult, and for places like libraries, they likely subsist on volunteers and interns. Not that I'd mind working for free, I guess, if I had room, food, and internet thrown in the package.
All the same, finding such a job would, again, require luck or divine intervention, and really isn't worth the trouble. To me, at least.
I remember, however, the words of Marcus Aurelius,
"It is possible to live on earth as you mean to live hereafter. But if men will not let you, then quit the house of life; though not with any feelings of ill-usage. 'The hut smokes; I move out.' No need to make a great business of it. Nevertheless, so long as nothing of the kind obliges me to depart, here I remain, my own master, and none shall hinder me from doing as I choose."Or, another translation:
"You can live here as you expect to live there. And if they won't let you, you can depart life now and forfeit nothing. If the smoke makes me cough, I can leave. What's so hard about that? Until things reach that point, I'm free. No one can keep me from doing what I want."
Of course, when it comes to these things, I can take as long as I want or need to act after accepting it as my course of action, because I know it will come regardless, even if I change my mind. And concerning why such an action seems less trouble to me than finding an ideal job, for me, though it may not be so with anyone else, suicide is no more difficult or outlandish a choice than any other. That is to say, since I first began to perceive my own mortality and its inevitability, choosing death as a choice of action concerning certain choice-sets in life lacks a taboo for me that I found, quite oddly, in others when they're given the same choices.
I even recall a rather intense debate with some online concerning a story in which my response as to what the main character of the story should do after the story ended was kill himself, which, much to my surprise, honestly, since I thought it was a perfectly natural end and viable option for those circumstances, many were against, saying it was too drastic and he should live despite his pain. Even now, I don't understand their reasoning at all, while I feel mine was entirely rational and natural, but to each their own, I suppose.
I suppose it is rather fortunate, in that mind set, that I had not been bullied as a child, for else if I had, I likely would have chosen to quit living if living lacked any pleasure for me any longer. Of course, I would try to do something about the bullies, naturally, but if such an action's consequences still did not show to make my life easier or less painful, at least, I likely would have died during grade school. Though, again, if I had, it would be because it was the most rational choice of action in securing happiness for myself, or quitting when that happiness was no longer feasible to attain. No different than any other thing, I believe. If a game grants you no joy, stop playing, and if a book is too tedious and grants too small a reward, cease your reading of it.
That is, at least, how my mind works.