I used to think when it would happen, it would be a deafening desire and an all consuming want that overwhelmed my senses
I used to think I knew what it was like
The despair
The heart ache
The inability to see any future that was worth living
I used to scream and cry and cut and drink and down as many pills as I could
But I always failed in that I would talk
I would speak
I would break down and cry until it felt like my tears burned
And my head throbbed
And my heart felt as heavy as an unimaginable void full of all the terrible things that ate away at my thoughts day in and out
But I was wrong
Lately it’s not this unimaginable pain that causes tears to well and remain day in and out
It’s not a desire to be helped, to be held and told “it will get better”
It’s nothing like I had thought it was or perhaps it has just changed form and matured as I have
Instead it’s this utter apathy
This complete lack of desire for anything or anyone
It’s an acceptance that the best of times has come and gone and whatever remains is a sea of bland horizons and stale dreams
It’s this quiet and persistent calm, that once it’s done, it’s all gone. That it’s a simple act, particularly when you’ve failed so many times before in such dramatic fashion.
It’s this acknowledgment that there always was a simple way out if I really wanted it, and perhaps I just always hoped in some small way that I would be rescued.
But now, it’s like a desire to just be free. To just let go for once and all.
To claim this choice as my own when so little else is.
I used to think it would be a deafening desire but I know now it’s a quiet whisper and a permanent stain on my mind. It turns out I was wrong all along, It’s not an all consuming want that overwhelms all of my senses, but a calming reassurance that everything will be finished. It’s a choice and an acceptance, quiet and steady, in the hours of no sleep and delayed conversations, of unread messages and failed responses, that my separation from this world as it stands, is something I’ve quietly been preparing for all my life. And while it’s romantic to desire departure in grandiose style, the sweetest of all are those that come naturally and calmly.
And yet, there she is. That voice that rises again and again to beg me to hold on for one more day. The voice that reasons it will get better, just wait and see. And I want to believe her, I do, but when it’s 4am and my head has yet to hit the pillow and I’m stuck wishing I was with those departed, I doubt she knows what she is talking about.
Because the heart ache, the deafening sound of pain and sorrow begins to pour through me, and then I know, I’m not ready. It only hurts this much, because I want to keep feeling alive for a little longer.
