Death beckons

  February 8th, 2019 by Sanarisonordic

As I sit here, listening to Bohemian Rhapsody, my cold hands trying to remember the placement of letters on the keyboard– I contemplate death.

I want it to end. For too long I have sustained this shell without hope, happiness and peace. It’s hard-living. I am what people in my country would call comfortably-off. I have a job that I hate. It’s going nowhere. My ambition to live up to my potential isn’t going to work. I can feel it. And I hate it. But to be fair, I hate most things. I hate people, I hate the way they are petty and jealous, greedy, dishonest. And I include myself in all these categories. I have tried to rise above it, maybe not let it affect me so much, but it keeps coming back. You climb a mountain only to see a hundred others have risen in its place. It’s struggle after struggle, challenge after challenge, problem after problem… I hate it.

I don’t know if it happens with other people but whenever I am surrounded by people, I feel drained of energy. Their presence is literally like a thousand needles shooting through my body. Being alone can be a relief but it is short-lived.

I got married recently. For some people, the euphoria doesn’t wear off for a long time. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t even joyous on the day I got married.

Perhaps I was always too sensitive. Ever since I was a child, I couldn’t handle my emotions. So I did what anyone else would do to survive. I shut off my emotions–the pleasant ones–because I was afraid. And now, all I feel is irritation, sadness and emptiness.

I have brief moments where I feel joy but they aren’t enough to bear the burden of this senseless living and struggling.

Why live, what for?

In the end, it all ends. Even those who think history will remember their great deeds are fooling themselves. Human history too shall be forgotten in time.

I think I am depressed. I have multiple scars from self harm. But I don’t think I will be harming myself again. It’s better to end life rather than bear marks for others to see.

Maybe I’ll starve myself to death. Maybe drug myself and slash my wrists. I don’t know what I am going to do. But it’s probably going to happen.

Thanks for reading.

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