I contemplate becoming that woman who simply leaves it all behind. I don't mean the woman who packs up her things and uses her passport to disappear. No, not simply the woman who starts over somewhere else, hopeful in the new adventure she has stepped into.
No. Not that woman.
I contemplate becoming the woman who takes too many pills, letting go completely of everything she ever was or could become.
It isn't because I am not grateful. It is not because I cannot see the beauty of the world around me. I certainly am. I certainly can.
I understand, however, that the world doesn't need me in it. It will never matter that I was here. I will never do anything, be anything, accomplish anything.
If I reach old age I will be left to hope that I have enough monetary value for society to place me in a care home. I will be left to hope that this care home offers more than bed sores and a television that helps ignore.
In the interim of moving towards the hope of that reality, the darker and harder it all gets. Yet still, life blooms around me and I am nothing if not grateful for the experience, the beauty, and above all else, the love.
It is all so futile though, constantly in search of hope for a momentary experience of joy, fulfillment, satisfaction, accomplishment ... whatever it is we need to be fully present and savor what it is we are going through.
Addiction. Habit. Comfort. Ritual. Security. Conformity. All the things that bring some fleeting sense of worth in continuing on accepting the drive life has, to simply be alive.
It isn't so much that I am depressed, as it is I recognize the truth and just don't want to play the game anymore.
The battle of good and evil. In a world where everyone seems to think they are right, as if their existence has some sort of importance in regards to the overall outcome of things. This is what creates such a battle. Before empires, before conquests, before territory, there was no good versus evil, just life.
I cling to the simplistic beauty that is life, but society demands so much more and cares so little for life. I feel deeply the constant bombardment of hatred for life, extraneously displayed when one cannot fit any of the molds society requests.
I certainly cannot fit the molds. So it is the value of my life is obsolete here.
Just ask anyone you find yourself better than.
Just ask yourself in the moment any emotion associated to fear of another human sets itself inside you. For it is in that moment the molds of society you cling to shine brightest. It is in this moment life is no longer simply life, but instead a cancer. A cancer learning and growing en masse, clinging to life for no more than a means to feed itself and keep itself growing.
Life continues to move farther and farther away from nature, it's Creator. Spiraling deep inside the idea of individualism, separatism, self-importance, which in itself is the creator of the delusion of good and evil. In turn creating the molds which define such concepts. The molds which define the society in which we live.
The molds in which I will never fit.
p.s. This is not a cry for help. I am not in danger of hurting myself. Seriously. Sincerely.