Hi, folks. ChildOfRagnarok is back again, so those of you who wondered whether I was still alive can breathe a sigh of relief (or put away your party poppers) now.
I don’t have much to share in terms of my life. I’m studying music production at a university, my songwriting has hit a lull, I’m still single (ladies), I have sleeping problems like you wouldn’t believe and my depression is returning to me. Nothing suicidal, just the usual death wish. Not much to talk about. Anyhow, I’m here to rant a bit since everybody loves it when I do that (ladies).
I’ve talked before about how I can’t talk to anyone about how I feel (the only times I’ve felt safe about it has been when larger amounts of alcohol have been involved, because nobody would remember me telling them). Because I fear that if I talk to someone, I’ll be stigmatized. Tainted. Contaminated.
People will tell me bullshit. “Everybody goes through that. It’s not worth committing suicide over!” Well, maybe it isn’t to you, but maybe it is to me. “But you have your whole life ahead of you!” Yeah, 60 more years of this. Woo fucking hoo. “You won’t get to experience happiness if you kill yourself!” On one hand, there’s a future of happiness in the distance that may or may not occur. On the other hand, there’s a future of nothing, but at least no more pain and it’s there at my command. Hmm… “You’re just trying to get attention!” You know, if you want to help me, you might not want to judge me, buddeh.
And of course, my personal favorite: “I can’t believe you’re so selfish. You were given life and you’re throwing it away? Don’t you care about other people?!” Maybe I care too much about other people, and that’s where the problem lies?! Which is more selfish, me dying on my own terms or that face in the crowd commanding me to keep dancing because he fears the moment the puppet show will end?! And like I said before, I wasn’t “given” life. It was forced on me. If my life was given to me, then it’s mine to do with as I wish. Including ending it prematurely. If I was born on someone else’s terms, I’ll sure as hell die on my own terms.
I’m sick and tired of living my life because other people want me to. Right now, my university studies keep me alive, occupy my mind and prevent me from thinking too much about things. But when that’s done, I won’t have anything to stop me. Maybe by then I’ll have a reason to live… or a reason to die.
2 comments
ChildOfRagnarok–I agree with you, especially about the caustic effects those who want to help us but in the process end up judging us actually inflict. I give them the benefit of the doubt, that they do want us to be happy, but like the super-religious who feel their way is the only way, these self-proclaimed keepers of truth and rightness become incensed, indignant, and condescending when they perceive we’re spurning their gracious help. And not even respectful expressions of appreciation for their good intentions, though coupled with our honest articulation of another, if incompatible, point of view, is enough to deflect their increasing harangue. I’m sorry you’ve been hurting, ChildOfRagnarok. I’m particularly sorry because I, too, have experienced something akin to your expressed angst over feeling obliged to behave as others would have you, despite the intimacy of the behavior–like evaluation of your own life’s sufficiency for you. That’s a hellish space to occupy because while you hurt, you cannot trust being able to confide in another without receiving back a litany of hurtful comments, or worse. What’s more, it appears you don’t even have the right to ask the person to stop–or more precisely, despite your request, they seem compelled not to–ironically under the auspices of “helping” us. If you ever want to vent without judgment, I’m happy to listen…
Thanks, NothingAmI, I appreciate it. The same to you, if you want to vent, I’ll be there for you.
Part of me feels I’m too harsh on people – after all, they’re only trying to help, and part of me knows their reactions stem from their own fear and denial. But then there’s the part of me who thinks they should know better.
Fortunately, I have my music, and since I get most of my song lyrics from my personal life, I’m not entirely without an outlet; it’s no substitute for confiding in another, but at least I have a venting point that doesn’t judge me. :3