I have not studied this concept academically, but know it deeply. What follows may sounds like a supportive take on ending ones life, or a note of this kind. It is not.
I write this deep in the washy waters of my burn it down, nihilism. I am usually a person of positivity, witty humor, and seeing the benefit of when plans turn. In these current moments, these tendencies have failed. My wrists are weak, shaky, fingers and throat trembling. The thoughts and feelings merge, unsure how to escape the tunnel my brain has created for survival. The sweet thought of nihilism encourages the rage and sadness to be released; it has become me. I hear this writing and see great need for alarm. I cannot say this isn't warranted. The job, the current artworks, the dreams, the pieces yet to be made. The accomplished sculptor of which I haven become just yet; the beautiful house I aspire to build with intent and lovely architectural design.
I push the family linage of entangling with rageful unavailable men. It's the feeling of a snake coiled around your ankle, tightening, finding the twisted comfort in the pressure against my bones. The snake stays, choosing My ankle, unrelenting, committed. We have allowed the mishandling of our sweet softness, and finding pride in being resilient. Women have stayed to frantically eat up the crumbs and give such warmth towards these calloused, unhealed souls. Allowing our lives to become consumed by the darkness of men, slowing down our beautiful existence to a tar like pain, our chests becoming deteriorating cavities, a charred abyss. Women explain, try to enlighten, to convince, to shed light on basic needs; if we are granted the space to do so. We beg, illustrate, and lead by example. We watch these men gobble up and benefit from the very concepts we are starved of. We look them over, seeing them covered in our warmth, satisfied from our bodies, and waiting for more. The frustration comes boiling up, creating the scene of the crazy woman. The emotional, needy woman that cant be satisfied; refuses to be soothed. It all started before us. Screaming without a sound into the void, these men know no different, not trusting in any other way. When the moment sparks they have a moment of clarity from our begging words, though they can not commit to the massive doorway awaiting their passage. I watch it slip away within minutes, knowing I will have to endure the consequences of this basic truth fleeting once more.
The choice lies within the women. Stay or go. To allow or to not allow. This is where the nihilism comes in - Surrendering Self to the wolf. Allowing the wolf to shred through the body; to go limp. This is to surrender to the broken bones, loss of blood, the penetration of the body with disregard of any care. You've seen it. It's a primal shrill scream that cuts through women. The clean sliced cut that has been felt through all of time.
The question is why would a woman surrender her life force?