Do we stay alive for the sake of being hopeful?
Or do we stay alive for the sake of what he said… “to leave a legacy”? Nevermind the details of what emotions you have for the offspring, if you are able to “leave” something of you behind, then shouldn’t you just leave an egg, or a donation of sperm at a bank? A part of your DNA… or like that of Dollhouse, your memories extracted? Afterall, are you nought but a bunch of memories?
In the city of mass consumerism, I was walking through the shopping mall on the top floor… and came to the side.. to the overhang. AFter staring out into the space, I wondered, how many of these Hong Kong people have consiered throwing themselves off this balcony… like how i want to right now? Most of them would probably tell me I’m stupid, there are hundreds of buildings that tower over this little shopping mall… plus, I’d probably survive that fall of a measly 6 storeys.
Maybe I should’ve been nasty and opened up that hatch to the plane door afterall…
Fortunately for my friends and family, I’m to much of a coward to take that step. Unfortunately for me, because of my cowardice, I have to live with it.
In this day and age, people are forcefully thrust into the world of responsibility at a younger age. We have to constantly think about others before we think about ourselves, we’re constantly shown how much of a problem we are, how much money we cost to be kept clothed, fed, alive….and now, we’re also having to think about what happens if we decide to commit suicide, how much harm it will cause others for the one taboo act you do. The mess THEY have to clean up, the depression which you have now so selfishly spread to someone else because YOU can’t handle it.
They constantly tell you that being suicidal, depressed and feeling negative is not only bad for yourself, but it’s ultimately having a detrimental effect on others around you. *insert a flow of verbal diarrhea about understanding that it’s bad and how you need help*
Ultimately, it’s all about giving you a fat guilt trip to avoid harming the people around you. Nevermind what you feel and think, just because you’re feeling depressed and suicidal, it’s “bad” for “everyone else”. they always tell you how lucky you are. How you have friends, you have family, you have a roof over your head. And with all this fluffy padding underneath you, your fall should be so cushiony, that you have no right to feel any pain at all.
The guilt trip for me is so bad, it makes me constantly wish, that if I had been born to a shittier life, would people stop giving me lip about how I should be feeling?
This is why I believe selfharm is considered the best form of release, that is, for as long as nobody finds out. It causes no suffering to anybody but to the person harming themselves. It’s a pretty exciting game, if nobody finds out, then it’s all okay. Once someone knows, it’s a shit sandwich all over, game over.
The act of selfharm is a bunch of fleeting feelings, short lived, but sometimes it’s the only thing that a person can feel amidst the dark void they’re living in. The unnaturalness of it all is what makes it feel so good.
When you eat food, and then quietly excuse yourself to the bathroom, lock the door, that dreadful feeling of looking over the toilet bowl, the feeling of your food coming up through your throat, its painful, sour feeling as your oesophagus reverses itself and empties out your stomach. The process is awful, you know it’s damaging, but the feeling afterward, when you’re all watery eyed and trying to wash out the taste in your mouth, the feeling afterward is this odd peace. The odd peace which is so close to happiness. The feeling is, however, fleeting. But isn’t that what all depressed people strive for? That fleeting feeling that can only be achieved when they’ve done it for themselves? The Indians do it as a form of a yoga ritual in the morning, a cleansing…. so it wasn’t just bulimics trying to get the perfect figure.
You cut yourself, the pain gives you that moment of being alive, a reminder that you are human. The wound is a beautiful symbolic gesture, the bloom of blood welling up to the surface, like a mountain opening up its secrets of spring water. The raw pain is followed by the dull throb, your body reassuring you that that it will heal. Once again, that odd peace that lasts for a short time. That odd peace you’ve created for yourself. The Malaysians have scourging ceremonies annually just to achieve that feeling.
Of course, as I said before, once people find out that your masochist tendencies are physically harming your body, it becomes a shit sandwich. Numerous lectures about how ungrateful you are, how everybody else would feel, and how irresponsible you are, it all begins again. But then again, there are number of different forms of selfharm which would achieve the same effect, many of them can be subtle, a lot of them are easily hidden. There are just a few rules to the game, depending on how you play it. If you’re playing the game to feel something from yourself, then rule number one, is to never let someone know that you’re doing it. If you’re playing the game to drag everyone into it, then the rule is to make sure, that you make yourself as much of a mess as possible. But be smart about it.
