What Now?

I don't enjoy life anymore. Maybe I never really did.

I don't like wallowing in self-pity (if that's what it appears to be). So I never complain out loud, especially to anyone outside a very tiny circle of confidence. However, recently, I lost it. The end, for me, is near. Very near. I can feel it. And I welcome it.

This is a wretched world. A world where goodness comes to die. The more kindness born in this world, the more evil gets to consume and laugh about it. I tried focusing on just the good. It doesn't work. It's too hard. I've been beaten down so many times. And though I can get up, again and again, why should I? What's the point anymore?

People I care about die silently. Did they get what they needed or wanted in life? Did they say goodbye to everyone they love? Will we ever meet again?

People who owe me money show off their expensive rendezvous or meals. I've cried enough because of them. Perhaps if I died prematurely, they would feel guilty (if they could even feel for others at all) and finally balance the accounts fairly with my family.

There are more to write about but I couldn't muster up the energy to. Perhaps some people don't really deserve any mention. Such as the vain and selfie-sh. They're nice people usually and outwardly but their world revolves around them and they're never fully real, to me. Well, everyone's world does revolve around themselves in one way or another... but when it comes down to a certain level of superficiality, there's something unattractive and pitiable about them. Something two dimensional and incomplete. (But do forgive my momentarily judgemental comments.)

My secret blog here also revolves around me, or my points of view. I often think I'm not worth anything while alive. So I almost never share my opinions publicly. It'll just be a waste of space, breath, consciousness, and cyberspace... if I posted it online somewhere, such as here. (Ooh I'd feel like such a hypocrite if someone were to read this. Stop reading now, stranger, and forget I ever existed because I don't matter and never will).

This quiet place, this secret blog, is my refuge. A safe place to think, cry, reflect and stop myself from really ending it all, and too suddenly. Maybe it'll even help me plan a proper time to end it someday. So many times when I really want to end it, I don't think about this place. Because coming here means a part of me doesn't really want to leave. With that revelation, my absence from this blog means I had felt very ready to leave for a long time. Well, am I changing my mind now?

Suicide is not an attractive option or act to me. But the end result would be more liberating and more honest than any other solution in this God forsaken world. So if a disease or accident doesn't take me in time, I might get sick of life enough to end it myself. Perhaps this whole life is purgatory. I don't care what's right or wrong anymore. Life has become nothing but suffering. Who wouldn't want to wrap it all up and move on?

If a friend were to chance upon this now, they would ask, "but your life seems perfect, doesn't it?" Sure it does. Everyone else has a perfect life, don't they? I'm sure a lot of people with seemingly perfect lives go through some kind of pain and struggle too. Some are strong and I admire their resilience. Some vent about it all day, and I hope it helps them purge those unpleasantness. Some, like me, can't handle life anymore and we've given up.

There is someone in my life now for whom I feel responsible. That's the only thing preventing me from calling it a wrap. For the longest time, I've had a list of songs I wanted at my funeral. Because the only thing guaranteed in life is death. I know it is still on its way but at times, I think it's too slow for me. Then there are times I worry it comes for the one I love too soon. I worry if this lovely soul had yet to do everything that brings joy and satisfaction. I worry if this kind gentle being would be in any pain or discomfort, and what follows next. I worry, self-centredly about my own heartache resulting from this separation and loss.

This soul makes me stay on in an otherwise blackened and dreary life. It's amazing to think someone could actually love me and want me around. Yet I feel so sorry for this person, and anyone else who loves me. I have nothing to give anymore. I am barren and broken. I'm like an old car with punctured tires and shattered windows. My engine almost can't start up anymore. My headlights dim out the moment they are turned on. There is no hope. Yet some people won't give up on me. Actually just one, who tries to clean the dust and rust off me. If a few others knew how worthless I feel, they would join that little party too. But they should live good happy lives without worrying about me. I would never want to burden them.

Love is everything, some say. If that were true, then would it be right to say that love is beautiful, truthful and faithful? And that it's also ugly, deceptive and unreliable? Is it eternal and temporal at the same time? Is it constantly fresh or constantly expiring? Is it easy and difficult all at once? Could its generosity be selfish too? And could its pleasure bring about pain as well?

Love makes me want to stay on because leaving would most definitely hurt the ones I love. Yet love makes me want to leave because staying could end up hurting the ones I love. With that slight gamble in mind, I think I'll stay. For now.