I am a coward
The stress and anxiety of life has made me lose my appetite.
Suicide has been part of many people’s lives. Some develop these morbid thoughts at the onset of puberty, some just want to end it all when they feel completely unwanted, irrelevant and indulge in self-pity and self-loathing. They feel great dislike and disgust for themselves.
My struggles with life are completely different. I am still waiting for feelings of shame and fear to be replaced by some sense of stability and sanity. It’s a distant dream.
I have tried reaching out for help. I have screamed, hoping for someone to hear me out; lend me their ear. I have messaged famous radio jockeys (RJs) that I am about to end it all. I have locked myself up in the room and tried suffocating myself; I have put a gun to my head but realised I am too much of a coward to pull the trigger. I have also tried popping a dozen pills, but somehow managed to survive. I have tried cutting my wrist, banging the car, holding my breath and jumping off a high rise. But I guess I am a coward.
My life has taken a predictable course of despair, helplessness, and I am assuming an early death. The self-hate I feel is neither physically nor intellectually stimulating. In order to punish myself, and in a feeble attempt to gain worth in other people’s eyes, I often sacrifice my desires and feelings.
I feel certain that I am losing sanity, that I am going mad. My surroundings, my friends and family don’t make much sense to me, but my feelings about what I want from life and how I want it, echo around me. The future is only more pain, more hurt and more loss, maybe I need some sense of peace, some comfort and this is the only way out.
As Vincent Van Gogh once said,
“The sadness will last forever.”
Yes, it will and we all will be drawn into this vortex of depression and misery. Why endure this disgusting feeling of being unwanted and unloved when one can embark on an amazing journey, full of adventures and surprises. Mirror is no good friend, as I see no love, only eyes waiting for that someone who matters.
I guess it’s about time I say my goodbyes and down that last pint that I saved for this day. No more expectations, no more love and no more wanting their time and attention.
I feel as if I am a slave to my own demons, as if the fire inside me will engulf me and slowly kill me. My own desire to experience what lies ahead is forcing me to give up on every morsel of sanity. I feel deprived and feel that self-pity is the biggest luxury I can afford.
Toxic, yes, that’s the word I can use to describe my existence and how I feel about myself. Toxic; festering, bloated and oozing puss. The moral brigades holding me hostage tell me about the length of time I have here. How do you tell someone that they are dying? I have decided to sit down and have this conversation with myself.
So many questions will be raised; why, when, how, what, where? But I am prepared to answer them and then cease to exist. I am just not prepared to go through another vicious cycle of uncertainty and anxiety; peace is what I deserve and demand. I can’t concentrate and I am doing what seems the best under given circumstances. Maybe it’s my way to escape the disgrace and humiliation that is set to rain on me. I have to keep my half of the bargain; I promised you I’ll vanish the day you will make me feel unwanted and unloved. There is an ancient wrestling, knocking everything out inside me. My final moments will be full of rattling, gurgling, moaning and rasping. I might seem vile and evil to people who looked up to me.
My brain would try seeking out those last bursts of oxygen. My breathing would get deeper and faster, but it will also get shallower until it stops altogether. It will be this very moment that I will cease to exist.
No hugs or handshakes… it’s all done. What are we waiting for? You mattered, you really did. I loved you, worshiped you.
I can’t fight any longer – lets end it, there is no hope left.
The views expressed by the writer and the reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of The Express Tribune.