“I don’t want to get up. I want to sleep some more.” I don’t need to have dreams. I just want nothing.” Everything is just too burdensome. I just can’t find my heart within me for anything.”
Sometimes I ask myself if I have done everything I could for myself- the things that I like or the things that make me happy. I’d like to believe I did. I want to say that many times I have tried to save myself. Not to do self-harm or have thoughts about it.
I often find myself in long rapid heartbeats, long-ranged insomnia, a full-length self-narrative and in distressed ships. Always trying, wanting to reach my heart for something I can’t get my hands with- Seeking for my own emotions, wanting to have control over them, hoping that somewhere I will find all my impassioned and beautiful memories. But I couldn’t take hold of anything. My heart is no less than an empty box of tissue. Like a box, beautifully painted floral on the outside but hallow and dark inside.
May be you’d ask me that “If I were in so much pain, why you never told us?” Why was it kept a secret? Why?”
Was communication really the issue? Have I not made it loud and clear enough? (I’m curious myself.)
You see. I want to ask you this time. Who did you think I was? Who did you take me for? Why haven’t you known? And if you knew the answers to these questions, then, this was probably the reason why everything came to play. For something that is already grand does not require an overflowing spectacle lest you want it in a bad taste.
I’m so scared to die. And for the longest time, I’ve only finally decided to end my life now. It’s difficult to leave everyone I love and care for. You don’t need to forgive me. You don’t need to do anything for me. I just know. It’s been so hard to breathe and I have come to hate the little world that used to bring me warm breeze and sunny skies. I feel so lonely in the middle of it all. I don’t know why everything makes me feel so lonely and hurt.
It’s so hard to breathe life to live. I can’t breathe. My heart probably hates me now. Maybe in the afterlife, it will be different. (?)
Yes. The afterlife has a nice ring to me. A certain kind of curiosity tries to peek through me. Many have said that it’s hell, darkness, only pain and suffering. And that ending a life here on Earth is cowardice. It’s like escaping and expecting to be in another better or different place but no one actually knows or, has been.
Maybe to you, it’s cowardice. But somewhere along the lines, it could be bravery- a blind bravery. After all, ending one’s life is murder by default which is something only the few dare to do.
No. I do not condone this wrong doing. I’m just saying that there is one more option- for me. And perhaps, I’m bent on going after this treacherous mission now just so, I can keep my head above water in a world where I am drowning and, you are just there standing, one meter away just shouting at me, calling my name but not getting me a rope or stretching an arm. Is it because I am no one’s responsibility?
I called out while sinking deeper. “Damn, it’s a much rather complicated thing. And yet, others make it sound so easy that it left me livid with hopelessness.”
I was told, “You should manage your time. I know your context is hard but…you can’t be a defeatist.”
I know that he was only speaking for my sake but after a while, I whispered into the air and thought to myself, “You’re speaking as if I wasn’t trying to manage my time; that I wasn’t doing my best to make it work. Or could it be that I wasn’t doing enough still?”
Sometimes it makes me feel as if, “You’re so far-off the ground; and into the sky flying, looking over these vulnerable people; mocking them while saying half-baked things.” It hurts. Because. I’ve been doing quite the contrary. In fact, for the most part of it, that’s what I’ve been trying to do. Just managing my time and yet, barely having enough. It’s always never enough. I’m not enough.”
Here. Look at me. Just trying to defend myself again to what seemed to be an attack against my own character.
I’m so sorry that you had to spend another hour wasted for me. It’s my fault again. That’s why I said, Let me just end it. Or else, I would be asking myself to apologize as many times as these words which have pained me endlessly and I don’t even know why I’m agonizing a great deal. As for apologizing, I can do that. I’ve been doing this since. But my heart would just be too numb or unfeeling for your empathy.
Whenever you say or do something, you make it sound so easy and fun. It makes other people want to try and try even better. It’s quite desirable. And I would agree with you in a lot of ways. People who are strong in mind are indispensable because they tend to know how to navigate their ships (intelligently) even on stormy nights. I’ve learned a lot just by watching you.
But, in the end, I can’t shake off feeling miserable and useless inside. You might say, I learn upon doing things and that it’s something positive which I should be happy about. But to me, more than feeling happy and thankful, I feel so miserable and exhausted for making myself someone else’s burden. It’s terrifying inside. I can’t let others share my burden. I can’t do that. I refuse to let others suffer for me. For so many years I’ve tried so hard to do things on my own. Asking someone’s help is the last thing I’d want in this world. I made a lot of mistakes and wrong decisions. Others mocked me for it and laughed at me, calling me weak as though my feelings weren’t valid. But I held everything in thinking I can still go on. I can press on. But, it was so hard. I feel happy easily then constantly feeling awful I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be truly happy. At the end of the day, the last thing I can’t put down is the face I let everyone see. Not me. No matter what I do, I will never measure up. I can’t chase even further. I can’t help making an enemy of myself. I hate myself for being the way that I am.
I always ask myself.
“Can I really tell you about me?”
“Can I really share half of my burden with you?”
“Would you please help me?”
Everyone is starting to get sick in my family. Slowly, it seems everyone is being tested. Like a warning sent somewhere that if I don’t take action anytime soon, I’d lose them one by one like withered petals; falling off. And I was just there. Like an observer merely watching a movie in front of the TV. I can watch and react but not be in the movie’s eventual battle. Inside me, there’s just no sense of urgency. Other humanly emotions have not yet resurfaced. It’s like something within me has accepted everything—to die today or tomorrow just like the norm. What difference does it make?
I guess my purpose is to be this kind of a character; obedient to Fate.
Everyone talks about change; big and small. That all people in this world have the freedom to choose, will-power do come in handy in times like this. There’s something inside me that I can’t put my finger on. There is. I want to know what that is.
Whether I’m a flat stupid or a fake, I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Or, I might have just known it that I am both.
“I just want to die.” Isn’t this what I wanted in the first place? Well, getting sick over this virus will naturally serve its purpose. See, I told you. I’m still obedient to Fate. And it might just be out of spite.
Indeed. You can still tell me now that I am stupid and reckless, an immature brat and an unforgiving twat, yes, just like this. But today, I gave Rose steam inhalation. And I still wish her to get better. (Humans are strange. I am.)