The Existential Realization That You Are Alive

As often as you can; you try to remember that you’re live. Being fully conscious of existence as a sentient being, and your ability to interact with the world. Emotionally you shout praise for all things, and that you exist. Experiencing the wonders and magic of it all with those you love — and the one you love. To feel the blood pump thru your arteries and feel happiness to be alive, and gratitude to have things in your life that are of such meaningful importance to you. Cherishing every moment; with all your heart, and tears in your eyes.

And then it all goes wrong. You think about wishing to never have existed in the first place, but that would mean all those good things wouldn’t happen. You’re still thankful for them, and trembling, manage a smile while remembering. To cope, to function, you retreat within your mind. Emotionally and mentally dulling yourself to the objective point of an IQ drop, and an outward presentation of distantness which others notice regardless of how you try to mask it.

Never focusing on the moment you exist in; your head fills with imagination. Daydreaming scenarios and social interactions. Thinking about nonsense which builds in volume to white-noise as your thoughts layer on top of each other. Distracting yourself by consuming media, wasting money, and when you manage to gather the energy; work at something to the point of obsession to try and occupy your mind.

As often as you can; you try to forget that you’re live. Being fully conscious of existence as a sentient being, and your limitations within the world. Emotionally you yell out your disdain for almost all things, and that you exist. Experiencing the horrors and tragedy of it all without those you love — and the one you love. To feel the blood pump thru your arteries and feel the immediate need to empty them. Feeling the sorrow and grief to have lost the things in your life that are of such meaningful importance to you. Struggling to survive every moment; with all the pain, and tears in your eyes. Until you can push it away again, growing just that little bit more numb, and then continue about your day.

And then you write in the third person. More disconnected from yourself than ever before – by necessity. To use first person nouns is too painful. It forces me to realize that this is my existence… This is the reality I’m in, and my past that has shaped my present.