I have been in situations where it seems the weight of the whole world is on my shoulders. At times my head feels heavy as if laden with the weight of two hundred storey building. As if the air I breathe in is as toxic as corrosive acid. I remember an incident involving acid, fire and a table. I feel those flames burning my heart every time and I feel my lungs wriggle in pains while the air gushing forth is as hot as molten magma erupting from the earth’s crust. I feel life ebbing out of me each time I step out to face each day. I feel the walls of the world collapsing and engulfing me in its ruins. Oh, how I wish I would be swallowed up never to return. I pass through the gravesides and I feel; oh those who lie within are far better than me, I wish to be like them. How else would that happen if not suicide? The sniper (insecticide brand that has suddenly become notorious for facilitating many suicides) in the room now has such a pleasant scent and I can imagine it tastes like honey. Oh, what a sweet taste to depart with. The ceiling fan and the rope from my clothes hanger now seem like a good combination and me dangling underneath both would make a beautiful sight. It would be just fun and I may feel like I am swinging to join those gone before me.
But then I stop just for a brief moment…
What would the great beyond look like? Will there be light? Will there be warmth? Will there be laughter and mingling? I cry that I am unloved here; will there be anyone to love me there? I lament for not being appreciated here; will anyone appreciate me there? I cry when I fail my grades here; will there even be an institution there for me to attend? I cry that I am broke here; are there riches awaiting me there? I cry for a lack of opportunities here; is there any opportunity waiting for me there? I cry that my parents and everyone else do not understand me here; will I even have any parents there or anyone else for that matter, it may be total isolation. What if death is just a total state of darkness with no air, no light, and no essence?
On second thought, what if there is life after now, beautiful, sweet and lovable, I will definitely love to live there. But will I be welcomed if I arrived without invitation or notice? Whose beautiful house would I stay when I haven’t lived long enough to build one. What if I am treated with scorn as a leprous one because I had wished myself death? What if they treated me worse than I already feel now, then where would I run to, certainly I cannot return back to this world. How come no one has ever returned to tell us the tales of what goes on over there. Many have toiled the path I am contemplating but no news has ever reached me from there. I have heard tales of old men who want to remain in this world afraid to walk that path. They may have good reasons for wanting to remain here despite their old age.
I think I know what to do now. I must speak with these older ones, in fact, anyone who cares to listen to me. Then I must find the essence of my being in this world. I must look at the poor beggars on the street who have nothing, yet struggle to live each day and find meaning in life. To look at the man who lost his job with a large family and responsibility to take care of, yet goes out each day to find a means of survival. In the end, I must learn to survive by myself. I must see the constantly divorced couples who find love often to remarry and know that love is at my fingertip, I only have to reach out. I must know that life is cruel and has killed me a thousand times from which I resurrected but I am not as cruel to kill life; my life; because it is just one and can never resurrect once it’s dead. Suicide is never the option.