hard-wired for it: This concept of liking oneself. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a loathsome individual who’s treated many people – including beloved, supportive family members and friends who’ve made great sacrifices for me – horribly in my worst moments and inadequately at my best. How does someone like that ever like themselves? There’s just no excusing nor forgiving some behavior – especially when it’s directed toward the kindest, most undeserving of people. There’s no secular Hale Mary’s I can perform to atone for the sins of my past. There’s no walking away from them – nor the consequences of those acts and other choices of my life.
I do really believe there are people born into this world who just weren’t meant for it. The Cosmic Stork dropped them, by mistake, in the wrong universe. And I think perhaps I’m one of those people. Neither my mind, my spirit, my actions, my beliefs, my character, my person – fit anywhere. If alternative galaxies or wormholes or matrixes or whatever do exist, maybe I belong in one of those, I don’t know. But it’s sort of nice sometimes to think about whether, when I die, I’ll wake up in the place I was originally supposed to land in.
Because as I approach the date marking a year since that October event – an act I ceaselessly reprimand myself for not carrying out successfully – it becomes increasingly untenable for me to live with the pain and burden I continue to cause others, the loneliness (self-imposed) of my life, and the bleak fact that there’s nowhere for that life to go anymore. What, I constantly wonder, am I even fighting for? And why – goddamnitt – does this stupid, primal instinct of self-preservation, combined with intense fear (memories of the hellish rehabilitation process following the jump), keep getting in the way of me carrying out the act that will delete me from this particular quantum plane forever?
True change is much harder, and takes far more courage and strength and discipline and inner paradigm shifts than I ever imagined. And I don’t know if I’m up for it. I don’t know if I care if I’m up for it. And wouldn’t everyone be better off if I wasn’t?
I do know one thing for sure: I harbor newfound and profound respect, awe, admiration and wonder for those in my life – and outside it – whom I’ve witnessed overcome greater inner demons, hardships, and addictions than mine. My hat’s off – truly – to all of you. You are the bravest people I know, and I can only hope the rest of the world comes to appreciate what it took for you to learn and implement – through sheer will and courage – new ways of handling the external and internal vagaries every human battles, but which some battle more than others. You know, it’s silly – I tend to think I’m uniquely cursed with the dense, dark cloud of angst and bad luck I feel is constantly showering toxic rain upon me, directed by Karmic forces who just don’t like me. But that’s bullsh–. Life is hard for everyone. I’ve just taken the weak way out. Over and over again. And now I fear it may be too late to find a way out of the lovely, intricately-designed, interior labyrinth I constructed.
Don’t let the same happen to you, please. If I am to take any solace from this ineffective life of mine – those of you that can, try to change – start little! – now. Don’t be like me. Don’t end up in too deep a chasm to climb out of – a chasm you didn’t realize you were digging all along.