“To be or not to be, that is the question.”
It seems to be the only question doesn’t it?
“Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?
When your depressed your mind suffers a thousand slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, you live every day in a sea of troubles, trying time and time again to take arms against them. You can’t oppose them, you can’t fix your life when there is nothing left to fix.
“To die, to sleep, no more; and by a sleep to say we end he heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.”
Oh, how I wish for it! Each day goes by and I think that I can’t take it anymore, I have tried my hardest to make the best of things, only because there seems to be so much to live for, but is there really? When there is so much heart ache and so many natural shocks that flesh is heir too it seems, sometimes, that death is the only way out, because if living a lie is going to be my fate forever, then death seems the more logical. No one wants that, no one wants to live in a world where they don’t fit in, where no one understands what they’re going through, and how could they?
“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause – there’s the respect that makes calamity of so long life.”
A seed grows into a tree, and single raindrop into a puddle, an egg into an eagle, the circle of life and respect that the world bestows on each and every one of us is remarkable, and yet at times it cannot be true. A homeless man is not respected because no one cares enough to know he got that way after serving in the army, a single teenage mother is not respected even though she works two jobs to support her baby, and a seventeen year old girl is not respected even though no one knows the truth about how she lost her innocence.
Life is vicious circle: dreams are broken, and yet still some of us press on as if it is going to get better, praying that will so we don’t have to feel the emptiness that comes with the depression, the loneliness of a forever sleep, and even hope still, that are dreams may be remembered then in our final unconscious state.
“To sleep, perchance to dream”…
5 comments
Nicely done.
I don’t know how poetic death is or isn’t, poetry may be for mortals only as long as we live, then nothingness for those which have gone before. So the days of our lives we write whilst here, never again to to be scribed fore ever more once we cross through that door.
Magnifique.
Nature is beautifula nd savage at the same time.
The beauty of a spider’s web contrasted against the deadly venom it carries in it’s fangs.
The rippling musculature and graceful movement of one of the great felines as they move to rip apart and consume their prey in a bloody fashion.
The mesmerizing beauty of the whrling winds of the tornado as it indiscriminately tears apart the city.
Humanity also has beauty and savagery. It is a bit more tricky than nature.
The dutiful and loving wife who is seeing another man behind her husband’s back.
The parent who dotes on and spoils a child in front of others but who beats and molests them when nobody is watching.
The friend who seems to have your back but is sticking a knife in it at the same time.
The limited view of your external self versus the chemical imbalance in your head that makes you dwell on dying every single day.
the lies that we tell ourselfves about having a purpose to live when objectively speaking there is none.
Haha, i’m not the only one with that soliloquy on the brain, huh?
We were studying The Tragedy of Hamlet in my college english course so it’s been on my mind quite a bit. Plus I LOVE Shakespeare so I figure this is appropriate for the way I’ve been feeling.
We pretty much never study Shakespear where i come from. I mean, everyone knows about him… But no. Not studying it so much. Although i have a vague memory of a teacher stubbornly telling me this particular soliloquy wasn’t about suicide. But really, i can’t imagine what else.