Tuesday, 22 May 2012
My greatest fear is also my greatest desire. I have longed to die since I was twelve years old. This is not a new revelation for some of you. What may be new is the realization that I fear it as much as I desire it. I have contemplated death since I was twelve, when I first realized I no longer had a reason to live, if I ever had one before. When I was a child I would cry myself to sleep over the idea of death, and no matter what my mother told me about how much god loved me, and that when I died I would join him in heaven, it never lessened my fear of dying. It never lessened my fear of the idea of ceasing to exist. Have you ever really pondered it? Have you ever really considered that the world will continue to spin even after you’re gone, as if you were never important, and never will be again? I know I can’t be the only one who simultaneously fears what I also desire. I want to be important. I want to have meaning, purpose, but I also want this hell to end. I don’t want to keep putting one foot in front of the other every day. I don’t want to keep living for other people, because intrinsically I can’t find any good reasons to carry one. This everyday battle isn’t worth it for me. I’m better off dead, and yet I fear never being important to someone, anyone. I fear no longer existing. This is why I linger, why I fill space until life determines I’ve had my time screaming into the void, and now I’m done. I live in fear of the day my voice no longer echoes uselessly off these cavern walls, as I am the only one listening. I abhor death, and I abhor fear, but my abhorrence of life far outweighs the two at this point.
Word count: 328