Running

There’s something exquisite, almost magical about running in the outdoors, with the wind on your face, with the birds chirping away, with music in your ears (from an I-pod which is not natural I know, but still!) and with nothing in front of you, just a path waiting to be trodden on. It reminds me of days long gone, of better days, of carefree days, days of innocence and wholesomeness and goodness. Before the villain called ‘reality’ entered into my life. Maybe I like running because it feels as if I’m running away from the villain, even if it’s only for a little while.

 

 

It almost makes life worth living. Almost.

The past still haunts me

All he wanted was a hug goodbye. And I refused. I didn't know I was capable of being so cold. So cruel. Must be all the anger, frustration, sadness and hopelessness that I've been sweeping under the carpet these past few months. Him walking away so forlornly was such a heart-wrenching scene that it broke my heart. He didn't know that after he left, I immediately regretted not hugging him goodbye. He didn't know that after he left, I burst into tears reminiscing about what could've been, what should've been.

He doesn't know that after all this time, I still love him. I always will.

Ramblings

Whoever said suicide is a coward's way out obviously does not know what he's talking about. I don't care what amount of psychologi​cal nonsense he has studied, he just doesn't know what he's talking about. It's not easy to come to the conclusion that your life is not worth living anymore. It's not easy to say goodbye to the things you like or love. No matter how depressed you are, it's not easy to make the decision to take your own life.

And even when you're about to do it, there is a part of you that tries to talk you out of it, that says but you haven't done this and you haven't done that, that you always wanted to see the Great Wall of China, that you always wanted a German Shepherd named George, that you may or may not want a child, that whatever, and if you die now you will regret not doing all these things that you dreamed of in your life.

And then there is the other part of you which tells you that even if you have all of these things you will not really be happy. Because you can never really be happy. You think it's an easy choice? You think it's a coward's way out? I think psychology is written by those on the outside looking in i.e. those who have never experience​d real helplessne​ss telling people who have given up that they are cowards.

I, for one, think otherwise. I think cowards are those who live life for the sake of living it, because they have no balls to change the way things are. And by change I mean if you can't change the world, and you really can't, then change the way you are. And if you don't like the way you are, and you can't do anything about it, then just cease to exist. And who the fuck is anyone to tell me that I'm a coward for choosing to cease to exist? At least i'm brave enough to do something to cease the sadness. Granted, I don't know if I'll be happy, but at least I know I will be sad no more. And that is not a coward's way out. That is taking charge  of your life.

Because when it comes to your life, YOU are the expert, not some psychiatri​st or
psychologi​st or therapist who think they know you in all of 2 minutes. It took you 34 years to figure yourself out. You are the expert. I am the expert. I decide. I choose life or death. No one can stop me. No one ever could. Only I can stop myself. And if I choose not to, that's my choice and my choice alone, made after years of deliberati​on.

So don't you dare tell me it's a coward's way out. I may be a lot of things, but I'm certainly not a coward. I never back down. If I do, it's because I choose to, after thinking about it for 34 years. Go write another theory on psychology​, because I'm not another footnote. I am real. This is real. Suicide does not equal cowardice. Suicide is a choice. Suicide is empowermen​t. Suicide is taking your life into your own hands. Suicide is coming to the conclusion that your life is just not worth it. That someone who is seemingly less advantaged compared to you, for example someone who is homeless, someone who is born without limbs, someone who does not have food to eat, someone who is born in a war torn country, is still better than you.

When you actually feel like that, what's the point of living? You may as well give way to the 'brave' people who think that they really want to live. Besides, everyone dies anyway, right? So why am I still here? Good question. It's certainly not hope, I've lost all hope. It's because I'm just not ready to go yet. But it's getting close. Some day, sooner or later, I will die on my own terms. Most of the time life wins. Sometimes you just have to win. Not because you are a coward. But because you're just tired of losing. And if you still think that that's a coward's way out, so be it. If it makes you happy so be it. This decision, this choice, makes ME happy. And that makes all the difference.

No one

In the end, you only have yourself to rely on. Not family, for they can only do so much. Not friends, although they will tell you they will be there for you (I'm sure they mean well but it's all lies, no one will really ever be there for you). Not God, if he even exists. So in the end you only have yourself. And if you have let yourself down, then really you have no one. A non-entity. An invisible being. That's what I am.

It's not that easy

And so it goes on. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. And nothing changes. Everything remains the same. This sadness, misery, hopelessness just goes on with each passing minute.

I'm barely hanging on, and everyday I ask myself what the hell am I even hanging on for? You see, I never asked for any of this. I never asked for this life. People say I should be grateful for what I have. There are people in this world born into a broken home, or born without limbs, or born without eyesight, etc. And yet they make the best out of the situation.

The problem with being normal is, you will inevitably have expectations, ambitions, hopes and dreams for yourself. It's  normal. And when you fail to achieve any of those expectations, ambitions, hopes and dreams, you ask yourself how are you any better than someone less fortunate than you are? You're even worse than them because with all their shortcomings, they still managed to make the best out of the situation. They still managed to be happy.

So what am I supposed to be grateful for? I never asked for any of this. I never asked to be born in the first place.