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Whether there is too much…

an overbearing weight impresses itself upon my chest like no other, i am making the choice to remove my ability to have children, and am trying to deal with the decision as removes me from the genetic pool altogether… i am afraid, of that there is no doubt, and even though i know that the procedure is going to be simple… the emotional weight is not so simple as it basically denies my family up to this point, with no children of my own right now, and finalizing a future without blood progeny with an inch or so removed….easy sterilization for 45 dollars and some medical insurance… sometimes i feel a million selves suddenly collapsing into me, the energy surging spirits of courage and confidence to aid a prayer and apology, and hope reinforcing the ultimate positive influence over this my first surgical anything… i feel like there are too many multiplications of people, and the trauma of intelligence is seeing this explosion in action worldwide like a spastic virus overturning and exploiting primal intelligence, it disgusts me to no end the degree of ignorance lying at the heart of the popular vote… call it my sacrifice for a fresh future, the genie lamp granting me a barter instead, and my dreams come true nearer than later… at my discretion, i give of myself for it is my body, and the bio-hazard blessed by gods unreal in the burned trash mess….and then no sexual intercourse for a week as the scrotum recovers black and blue and bloody, i suppose… no one will ever meet my child unless it is adopted, i am turning inside out as they emotions rally, or maybe that voice is just the overactive imagination eating my brains again… it still hits me like a cold, crawling spider….that chill glides up my spine, glaring inside my soul at that freak ego that feels freaked out by thinking too much about the surgery, and only a week left yet to feel/ know the results… i hope i at least get some decent pain medication, a serious meditation either way over effects of my life on the rest of the world, and what i really want to do with myself before the neutered man dies… sometimes the bug just feels trapped in a jar, with all the world outside of this imaginary bubble formed out of the personal gravity of the individual as it bends and warps space/ time around each one of us… middle age equals the plateau for most of us perhaps, but i wonder just what fiction we are imbibing from that glues us to these unimportant displays of dominance, waging battles for nothing over nothing with everything at the stake burning… the masculine distance matched by the feminine reach for contact… there is no heritage, it is merely another major anchor holding us to this plane, another exaggerated mythic operating system used to conjoin people… i guess i should at least be glad i won’t become eunuch, and 60 percent recovery of semen if “reattached” within seven years, which one surgery seems enough when considering your own body as meat let alone two surgeries… the paperwork says that the semen will become ‘anti-sperm’, or rather recycled back into the body of cells which will put my immune system at more awareness from awhile as the body gets used to its condition, reading some of what might happen in the worst case made me cringe… i am wondering whether there is too much for me to enjoy, or if this thing i am feeling is really a dream, because every time i trick myself certain a change occurs in the way things turn out… i wonder what the saint of nihilism is?…

Thanks, khet.