Been a while, hasn’t it?

I am not dead yet, unfortunately, but at least things have been looking up on one aspect of my life.

As soon as I resigned from my previous job, I landed another two weeks after. It was a temporary position, but it pays well and I got to learn a lot, from the people I work with and from the job field itself. It is definitely an upgrade, but more importantly, it feels like loosening a knot that is not even necessary to be tightened, to begin with. For that, I am grateful.

Yet the heavy feeling won’t really go away.

There are still good days and bad days for me, like a cycle. Most days, I was just sad. On another, there are triggers–glimpses of dysfunctionalities around me which reminds me I am broken and that there is no way for me to escape it. On certain moments where hope seems to win, it called out to me saying I don’t have to remain unfixed–that I may be okay and I will be if I get the chance to see myself out of the circumstances I am in. But another voice has the last word in this: will Lady Fortune be merciful enough to grant me that chance? Suddenly I am convinced that I may be predestined to misery and reprimanded myself that I shouldn’t have been stupid enough to listen to all these self-development gurus talking about “how everybody should aim for happiness” and “fulfillment of their potentials” bullshit when I was younger.

It does not help with how the society seems to believe that adults can and will sort out this stuff well eventually. Mostly they pretend to. Alas, not all of them make through it. And they only hurt other people with their bad choices as a consequence. Most cruel of all, nobody seems to want to do anything about it.

At times the heavy feeling only gets worse every second, thoughts of regret and self-hate become frequent yet there is no way of getting used to it. I found myself wishing that I could just be whisked away from this world, or even have the guts to end it all. But then I can already hear these shrieks of how death is never the way. “Just don’t do it!” they say.

How convenient.

Let me hear it out then, why is it that I can’t do it? I was born into this world without having any say in it. I don’t even enjoy most of it–I was only making my way from one option to another, which are obviously far from ideal. And now you’re telling me I can’t even make any decision on how I want to opt out of this terrible place?

Selfish, they say. So what, I simply need to keep on barely living so they will not have to deal with it? Which pot is calling the kettle black now?

It’s funny, that exact phrase: death is never the answer.

I’m sorry I’m not as brave as I should be. I’m sorry I’m not as strong. I’m sorry it doesn’t make sense. I’m sorry there isn’t one main cause that explains this. And finally, I’m sorry I’m not as lucky to not feel things the way I do.

But I’m not sorry that I do.