If I were brave, I wouldn’t be here. If I were smart, I wouldn’t be a coward. If I loved myself more, I would be out living life on a Friday night. If I had could stop running, maybe I could just clear my head. If I had more time…i’d hate myself a little less.
But I don’t live like that. My world has grown smaller and darker as time wanes on. I have grown smaller and weaker as well. I find my existence to be increasingly cumbersome. I know there is a part of my brain struggling not to give up, but the urge is just so enticing. I can hear the calls of the damned calling from somewhere distant and someday I know I will answer them…
2 comments
It’s strange. I don’t think there are many on here that know why exactly they keep going. What part of their brain anchors them here. Maybe it’s cowardice maybe it’s not. Maybe we don’t completely hate ourselves. And we don’t know when that part of our brain will give up.
It’s ok to not do anything on a Friday night. Sometimes it’s more depressing going out alone anyways. I find dinner and a movie to be acceptable. 2+ hours of sitting in silence. It’s not the worst thing in the world. Hope your world gets a tad bit bigger and brighter.
It isn’t about knowing why we “still keep going.” Keep existing is the default option. To be anything other than that requires effort/luck/the right materials to not be alive anymore. Many WANT to exit, but can’t. We don’t have a good way of offing ourselves that doesn’t have huge consequences to a failed attempt. That is why. Attempting is not without it’s risks.