I don’t do drugs, I am not clinically depressed.
I have never tried to take my life — even though disappointments do make me feel like my world is coming to an end.
I am not the kind that talks a lot, but that can never really be a problem. Imagine a world with one faulty loudspeaker; peace, so much of peace that you can scoop it all up and pile it up as high as a mountain that people can go to during vacations.
But here’s what I would like to alter a little about myself, my thinking…
1) Growing up, I thought I had elephant feet. The crazy in me sometimes wished I could chop them off
2) Never liked the way I looked — I felt too broad, too masculine, too everything I didn’t want to me
3) I disliked being best friends with a girl who would always come first in the class. I wanted to be smarter than her but I hated studying
Not any more, thankfully. That’s because I have another beehive to tackle. It stings, but the determination to fight remains intact despite the inevitable realisation that it’s just really a stupid fight to begin with.
1) In a crowd full of people, my first assumption will always be that I am invisible. I don’t exist
2) Everybody is always better than me. Luckier, successful and happier
3) Nobody cares, they pretend, but they don’t
You see I like my punching bag; the bag being me, myself, my body and my mind. Since I can’t beat up my best friend or people who don’t know how to mind their business, I turn to myself. I turn to one thing I can really tame and shame, one thing that will listen to all my drunken accusations and believe it’s the truth — myself.
As pathetic as I might sound, I know I am not alone. You do that too, don’t you now? How ironic! Especially when you and I know we are our biggest enemies — not drugs, hostile people, terrorism; ourselves and we are eventually going to burn ourselves down, sadly but willingly.
It’s a controlled addiction, but one that a smoker knows is just within reach. I just need to clench my fists, don’t really need the gloves, count to 3… and then it all begins.
It’s really pathetic, but it’s the way of life. If you aren’t addicted to this, then perhaps something else. The salvation doesn’t lie in being rid of it all, because you never can. The salvation, which translates into you being able to breathe, will allow you to survive. It will allow you to walk the thin line and when it sees that you are losing control, it’ll fly away, like a little bird.
And when that happens, I hope you are prepared for the oblivion and most importantly, I hope you know how to pray.