Melancholia

It's hilarious when people tell me I'm always cheerful. People do see what they choose to see. I don't even bother to correct these harmless folks who just don't (want to) know me. Their ears would most likely choose what they want to hear as well.

I've felt slighted, betrayed and failed a lot recently. By myself and by others. I have a lot to be grateful for and I am. But life should be lived by those who have the vigour and ambition for it. I don't. I am just wasting space, depriving more deserving living souls of air and resources.

It feels like all my life, I have been on the worse end of any stick. It doesn't motivate me. It doesn't enrage me. I have simply given up. Why fight in a world where justice isn't the natural order of things? After all, I am just a tiny speck in the gigantic universe. Who cares what I need or want, whether I laugh, cry, live, or die? No one. Not even God, I bet.

I believe God has more important things to worry about. More important galaxies and realms to visit. Earth is most likely NOT the centre of the universe. Our universe is probably not the centre of all universes. And each little human being is probably just as unnecessary as a germ on a fly's wing.

Am I bitter? Perhaps. Am I beaten? Maybe so. Am I depressed? I guess. Do I care? No. Little failures now push me over the edge. I don't really react very visibly though, because just before I do, I remember it's easier to just give up and step outside my own worthless life. Wait for it all to end. Because it all has to someday.

I watched Lars von Trier's beautiful film, Melancholia. I fully understood how validating the end of the world felt when it came. How satisfying and purposeful it was. I admit that I had hoped for the world to prophetically end in 2012. Every listless cell within me would make sense if it did. Everything was winding down to this demise, so suddenly my sadness wasn't pointless after all. I was very disappointed when I woke up alive on December 23rd 2012. I had nothing to live for. Except that I wasn't devoid of affection. I wish I had no one loving me. Then I would truly go in peace, without responsibility or guilt. I have no reason, no will, no wish, to live.

Life, to me, is nothing but a tiresome journey that will ultimately end in death. Yes. The only thing life guarantees is death. The good news and bad news is that everything passes. I'm done. Really. I don't want to struggle anymore. I don't see the point. It's not worth it.

But the ones who love me make it seem worth it. I know deep down and in every fiber of my being that it isn't, that this life is just a horrible temporary illusion to steal away innocence, rape all sense of hope, and burn solid virtues to mere ashes. But I can't tell them so. Even if I explain it to them, they wouldn't fully understand or empathise. Honestly, I am very glad for those who have reason, purpose and joy in their lives. Hard to believe but I used to myself, at some point long ago and too far gone to remember. I always enjoy immensely the sound of genuine happy and benevolent laughter. I smile for those who have youth, health, hope, accomplishments and good fortune on their side. Let these blessed souls enjoy this world without my "negativity". Oh and don't get me started on the labels humans love to throw around.

I once wanted to volunteer with a suicide hotline. I realise now that I would have helped some callers who really felt the way I did, and still do, but not the cause for which I would be volunteering. I believe I understand a few reasons why suicide is a great option. It's never the only option but for a few sincere contemplating souls in pain, it is the best one when one feels that nothing good or worthwhile is left in this, or their, world. When anything, ANYTHING at all, is better than this struggle (and someone, who doesn't empathise, trying to get them to see things in a different and positive light will simply strengthen their beliefs that no one cares how they feel, or that others want to judge or control them, etc. Who are they to judge when they cannot understand?).

For now, I allow my wretched struggle to go on, for those who actually love me. They are truly my only reasons to live, and I will try to do what's right by them. That includes no sudden suicide, despite having considering it carefully as an option. This isn't sacrifice. Nothing selfish, nothing noble, nothing tragic, nothing to be read between the lines. It's only a choice I have made. Not that it should matter to anyone else. My burning tears and loud, heavy, primal sighs seem to bring some comfort. Yet each day alive in this incarnation deepens the gaping hole of melancholy within my brain, gut, heart and soul.

Thank God, if God has the time, for my secret blog. I do feel better now. Don't try to understand or fix me. I never wanted healing. Nothing matters to me anymore. I just want it all to end so I can finally experience some real peace and joy. Death comes to all men. I am going to settle some necessities for my loved ones by early next year. And then I will smile and wait impatiently.