Life is an odd thing.
You can have no friends, your family practically all passed away within a matter of 5 years, a grim past and equally bleak view of the future and where the world; not just your own existence is headed.
You can be aware with perhaps full on nihilism that it’d take close to 4 billion years going at 186,000 mp/s to reach the end of a still expanding universe, the thought putting into perspective perhaps how irrelevant this planet is. There’s likely hundreds of thousands of planets with other life going through the same issues human’s do. And one of them is awake at 4am after weeks of difficulty sleeping (due to Varicella Voster Virus) writing their thoughts down on a site they came across, about not understanding why they persist.
Everyone seems to have different coping mechanisms with life and different thresholds for how much they can take. I knew someone once that said if they didn’t have their sister, they’d probably have ended their self. Other’s will all have their own trials and experiences, some have a family; a level of normality I don’t picture myself amongst, but perhaps with that normality could be a toxic relationship, a miserable job. Every positive can have a negative, and a pull factor to exit.
I’ve never been able to understand why I haven’t yet exited despite reason several times over to. The place I’m from has very strict firearm laws, it makes me think how the exit rate here would likely be much higher were such an easy and accessible way to do so available. There was a point years ago of dread and tangible sadness, mixed with an apathy that almost made my vision monotone. Where hobbies no longer yielded any interest and you’ve a feeling of sinking in sludge coupled with an almost physical pain emanating from the chest region.
This period isn’t the same as now, after frequent events that followed, you become as adapted to it as breathing; thought isn’t required, it’s just something expected to happen. The feeling now is one of nothing, perhaps apathy is something but there’s no conflicts with the idea of exiting, just a confusion as to why I continued so long where many wouldn’t have.
Maybe a childlike hope that a remotely normal place could be reached, some almost living darkness with a cruel sense of humour pulls at those strings like a leash however at every attempt. It waits each time until the childish hope had reached some form of momentum, then stretches the hallway another mile. The repetition isn’t something I’ve the energy for anymore, the outcome would be the same regardless of when.
I know negative thoughts are just a chemical imbalance, and activities creating dopamine and reducing inflammation like running can create a less fatigued grim feeling, but chemicals will make little odds to a reality carved into stone.
What ramblings, my apologies.