Everyday sadness is something I contend with.
The sun rises and with it comes a new struggle for survival.
The quest for survival spins in perpetuity and with it comes sadness
My only respite is fantasizing about the peace and solitude that comes from the eternal sleep.
I’ve never been depressed enough to let go of the ledge and end it all, but I’ve never been happy enough to stop fantasizing about the great beyond. I’ve seen a dead body once and it was that of my uncle. This man had struggled for the latter part of his life and despite the family’s efforts, he always seemed to get in his own way. He died an 85-year-old man, probably with some regrets but on his death bed, all I could see was peace.
I constantly flirt with thoughts of the great beyond and curiosity has killed 4 of this cat’s nine lives. That’s almost half of my life spent wondering if living is truly worth it and why I should keep going on. Life is an unending cycle of struggle and in my case, I struggle with some of the basic things. No matter how hard I try, there’s a voice in my head constantly reminding me of my shortcomings. People tell me I’m doing okay but I never seem to impress my biggest critic, myself.
In the midst of all the noise, I hear a loud silence that clutches my ankle like an injury in the final moments of the most important game of your life. I hear these thoughts like a dirge playing in the ambient and dipped in the most benign jokes told to humanity. It is like a cloud of grief in the sky that drips thorns on my soul. I hear the crowd cheering as I’m stretchered off and my thoughts are centered on how fickle fighting for the victory was in the first place.
I always wonder where dreams go when they die; do they die with the person? or maybe they get transferred to someone else. I wonder if that happens to the soul as well. Does it just dissipate into eternal nothingness? or does our consciousness morph into energy that fuels the universe? I have more questions than answers and answers that I can’t share after I find out.
I’m worried and very scared sometimes because these feelings aren’t that hard to find. It’s not like digging into the recesses of my mind to unearth a buried emotion; this is on the surface and whenever the wind blows sour, I’m reminded of it.
Life is like a slave master that rewards the living with whatever cup it deems fit. We’re the slaves of life, dancing and doing our best to get life’s attention, and hopefully impress it enough to drink from the good cup; a cup that some merit and others don’t. But if the final prize is death, what was the point of all that dancing?
My emotions are a compound mess, dipped in confusion and fear. I fear because I don’t know but most worryingly, I fear because I know that I may never know what I need to know.
In the midst of this curiosity is a silent drive to keep going. It’s a familiar voice akin to my mum telling me to be strong, sometimes it sounds like my dad egging me to keep moving and other times it’s my siblings, friends, and wellwishers reminding me of how awesome I am. I’d be foolish to ignore these voices and would probably have been dead.
The curiosity of the great beyond pervades my mind and while it may be tempting, my love for life is stronger, at least for now. I don’t know which cup I’ll be dealt with next but for now, I can still handle the drink in this one. I hope it gets kinder but if it doesn’t, I hope I have the fortitude to keep fighting suicidal thoughts.
Originally published at https://steemit.com on January 20, 2020.