I often wonder why God kept me alive after moving at full speed to end it all. In ways, that humbles me but more often, I find myself riddled with guilt.
I wasn’t walking the thin line between life and death but I always asked God to take me away from here when things got rough. And that never happened.
I asked. Genuinely.
It’s suicidal in theory but never in practice. I just felt like everything I did and continued to do would be pointless. I failed to do enough on this Earth to warrant being around.
So you don’t care enough to care about yourself and others. Because eventually, things end.
All of this sounds morbid. When life doesn’t matter, why even live to see it through.
But I’m here.
I witnessed someone die at the age of 34.
We both fought demons. I still fight demons. They no longer fight their demons. They are now in a place where those demons hold no merit.
My mind is a cesspool of emotions. I weeped last night at all of my past bad decisions. I speak about life as walking through neighborhoods. You’ll keep walking but eventually you’ll hit a dead end. Some decisions lead to dead ends. You can only dodge dead ends for so long until you can’t get out. You can only dodge poor decisions until you’re not in the space to make them.
Eventually I’ll run out of options. But that’s out of my hands.