༺ ♡.PINKY.♡ ༻

Ramblings & RL Stories
Ad 2:
2021-02-09 22:06:27 (UTC)

Do I Exist

Do I exist if I say nothing, do nothing, go nowhere?
Do I exist if I am not even seen?
Suicide is so complicated.
On one hand, it seems simple.
Like blowing out a candle so that it burns no more.
But then, I realize how I'd upend the life of the only one who really matters.
His life.
He stands resolutely by me always.
He is my only comfort when the darkness is in control.
And I love him.
But on the other, is living constantly on the brink of death living at all?
For wounded animals and terminally ill aged loved ones, we give them death and it is regarded as humane.
So what of me?
I am a shadow of a human, an empty husk simply dragging itself from one momentary flicker of happiness to the next, with miles of drought in-between.
Would we not wish that a man stranded in a desert, head full of mirages, and hopelessness had just one bullet so that he may go with dignity and bring and end to the pain?
Do we not call that humane?
And yet to those, who like me, are in their own deserts, we admonish them for not having the strength to drag their narled bodies through further pain and dispare until the on lookers are satisfied.
Which they never are.
They want you to keep going.
And not because they care but because apathy is easier than giving a man in a desert, so far away, a drink of water.
A drink which is not a guarantee of life, nor a resolution to the suffering.
Apathy is easier than what they know would be hard work, holding you up, giving you a resivior, and continually bringing a cup to your lips.
If a man died in the desert, with no family, no job, no money, no societal value to speak of do they exist?
When nobody misses you do you exist?
I find myself living on the precipice.
I've made a home here. It teters on the edge with even the slightest gust of wind. And thought this house should be condemned, I do not leave.
Because I do not belong out there in the real world.
I cannot live up to any expectation to work or socialize or exist normally because everytime I do, I do it wrong I feel the wind begin to blow and I run to my shambles house for cover wondering if it will become a full blown storm or if the smallest gust will be what finally sends me tumbling into the abyss.
So I am trapped, within my shambles house waiting for the next gust of wind.
I am trapped deep within a desert, the sun baking my torn skin.
I am trapped in my own mind, wishing for a death that will never come because I am too weak to do what would be humane.
Because I am a coward, both in failing to live and failing to die.
But everyone is a coward.
Afraid to help, afraid to step out of line, afraid to fail, afraid to change, afraid to be alone, afraid of death.
The only difference is they are so afraid of failure and what others might think that they live for the sole purpose of running from those things.
They dig deep and keep running even when it hurts.
I instead have stopped, curled up into a ball, and hidden from the pain, resolving to take some bad instead of running, making it angry and suffering a worse fate when I inevitably fall.
And so everyone else is deemed normal, and I not.
Do we, the non-normals exist?
If society will not have us, do we exist? If we hide from it and it in return pretends not to see us, do we exist?
I love him so much.
He is not a man of spectacular strength or intelligence or skill.
He is an average man who loves deeply, wholly, and kindly.
Though even in that he isn't a master, as few people are.
He is a normal man, living a normal life, and yet he is my reason for still living.
When he is with me in the desert he brings me water to soothe me, and then he has to leave again.
He must make the arduous journey to the oasis and back again.
And again I am alone, writhing in pain.
When I live in the shambles house on the edge, it seems stable and warm for the moments he lives in it.
And then he has to go.
And the glow he brought with him must go too.
Is it easier be depressed alone or to have someone bring hope and take it away everyday.
I can't ask him to stay.
He belongs out there.
He thrives.
I can't make him endure the same prison I do out of selfishness.
Is this living?
Or is it living on life support.
Ought someone pull the plug?
And would anyone else say I existed?