on suicide missions

I always wonder how I would go.

The cliché of a slit wrist in the bath tub. Oh, but I don’t have a bath tub, and I’m scared of blood or the thought of anything sharp going through my skin. The quick bullet to head. How am I going to get access to guns? Pills. I can’t bear the idea of having to go through all the nausea and mess.

It’s a good thing I’m lazy and I have low tolerance in dealing with pains. Or is it?

Now I’m stuck here, dealing with pains that no one can see and no one can explain, including myself. And there’s always that thought, I must be alright, right? It’s not like I actually attempt suicide. And I’d like to give you some sob stories of hardships that can make up as an excuse for feeling this way, but I don’t have it. My life is far from perfect but it’s pretty great. I have loving family and friends, a pretty great job and a pretty great life, I’m so prepared for some of you deeming me a whiny, spoiled brat.

In my teen years, I thought it was a phase. Everyone is supposed to have the rollercoaster emotions when they’re teenagers. In my 20s, I still thought it was a phase. Emo music was on the rise, and it was the time to figure out things, so I rode the wave. I thought by the time I’m in my 30s, I would finally figure out the tricks.

I haven’t.

Maybe it was just a monthly PMS, I thought. But surely it can’t be this bad. If every woman has PMS and feels this way, surely I’m not alone in this? So how do I feel like I am, in everything? Another question I can’t answer. I shrug it off. Another problem to deal with another time.

I just had one of the most difficult deadlines of my life, and I was so exhausted, and I thought that was it. I didn’t sleep enough, my time management was all over the place, and I just got stressed out. I met the deadlines, I survived that, but I don’t think I survived that draining dread that washed all over me. My financial organisation was as okay as it could get, I was flat broke just when my loved ones needed money for medication. Have you ever felt like a useless piece of shit? That was it. By payday, I sorted things out, with more to spare, all was good. It's just that I still can’t afford feeling okay.

I don’t have any excuse to feel this way. I don’t have any excuse to be an erratic pain in the ass to all my loved ones. I don’t have any excuse to break down and cry at any given moment. And I’m just so tired.

I can live from distractions to distractions, I think that’s how I’ve been all this time anyway. Looking for something to look forward to, time and time again. Currently? It’s a trip that I’ve been planning for a while, and the final season of Game Of Thrones next year. So I’ll be around for a while.

I just can’t stop some unresolved (or even resolved) things from coming back to me, haunting and nagging to the point where I wonder how can those people with “no regrets” as their life motto do it? Back in the Nintendo or Sega days, I had the habit of restarting my games if I thought I could do it better, even though my character wasn’t dead yet. A redo to improve. These days, I continuously have the urge to push the restart button, but I don’t know where, and I know I can’t go back to the start of the level like Mario did or to the checkpoint like Sonic did.

I wish I have a punchline to wrap this up, but I don't. Unresolved. You can be sure this will come and haunt me months from now.

But I'll find a way. I always do.


ps: When you hear the news, please check on my dog first above anything else and make sure he goes to Tressabel Hutasoit (she'll know what to do).