The seventh

November 5th, 2017by ThirdClassWorldCitizen

Previously: My life is just an image of a rollercoaster anyway

I didn’t jump from the bridge three years ago because I realized I would be able to kill myself at any moment. With this in mind I felt free, there was no rush to end everything anymore. But after I failed on yet another attempt at restarting my life, despite death being the most logical thing to me, I didn’t try to kill myself.

Death is not bad, and it is not simply a way out as some put it. It is when our minds disappear, setting us forever free of all memories, feelings and emotions; it is the end we all will get to one way or another. Soon all of our stories will be over, and we can either let destiny choose a date and place for us, or we can take matters into our own hands and face death — our free will is what makes us humans — and whatever we choose, the fact is that only those who stay suffer; there is no pain for the dead.

My view of life and death should have allowed me to have killed myself already, but no, I always come up with acceptable excuses to postpone death — can’t get rid of this bizarre sorrowful venomous chimera within me, spitting hope everywhere and instilling its venom even on the fools who approach me! Well of poisonous mischievous treacherous hope! 

So after coming back from the trip that helped me recover from a depression that had left me totally numb, I started to think on how to turn my life around again. I finally found a very interesting program on one of the top universities in my country, on a field that I liked, that would allow me to study abroad without postponing much my graduation. It was a beacon of light in the darkness: by the end of the course I would be already far from here and working abroad. I knew it would be a piece of cake for me to get in, but not only it was quite expensive, it was also a full-time study program for the first two or three years, so even as a freelancer I would have very little time to work, which would make me earn less money.

I never had the option of not working in my life. Actually, it’s more than that: I never had the option of working just for a little money. Even though I am single and I don’t have kids, I still have to help my mother, she would be in a dire situation without my help. So full-time study and work… It would be tough, but I gave it a shot.

I got in after the lengthy admission process, managed to get a student loan, and I finally started it. I became extremely busy with all the college activities and my work, I didn’t have time for anything else. It was hard to find time even to go out with someone and have sex. I would normally sleep for only 5 or 4 hours a day during the weekdays, and once in a while I would not sleep at all from a day to another. It was very tiring, but I was OK with all of this: this was the best chance I was having in a very long time, and I was very excited about the idea of finally leaving the country in two years.

But things suddenly crumbled. To make up for some mistakes I made working in projects of two of my best clients, I started to skip some classes here and then. Skipping the classes was not a problem by itself, as I didn’t have trouble with any of the subjects being taught, but it quickly put me close to my limit of absences. Then I got into a very stupid accident that made me go past my limit of absences and automatically fail two of the subjects. That was devastating: I lost both my student loan and my chance of going to study abroad, as both required me not to fail in any subject. I blew the best chance I had in years…

This happened two months ago. Since then I thought many times about finally ending my life. I’ve hated this country forever, everything I did was always thinking that someday I would have the means to leave this place. But I am already 33 years old and I could only try to immigrate as an unskilled worker — that’s almost impossible and my living conditions would certainly be terrible, it doesn’t seem worth it.

I’m slowly letting go of everything again. I already stopped seeing friends, I’m avoiding my mother, I’ve been working less and less…

I want to embrace and be embraced by death, but I hate that it has to end. I am at the end of the rope, but instead of easily letting go, I tie my hand to it. I see my fainted broken body all beaten up on the floor and I am still screaming at it to fucking get up and fight. I don’t see a chance to be happy anymore, but I hardheadedly refuse to accept it. I have trouble dealing with the end of my story. I can’t get over the loss of myself.

Next: Fairy tale

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