to live or to die?
If life is a journey and not a destination, what's the point of living when nothing is guaranteed?
a couple of weeks ago, i saw a tiktok of a woman saying that life is all a journey and there's no destination, which makes sense. but that made me worry. if there's no destination and nothing is guaranteed, what the fuck is the point of all of this? to learn, to grow, to worship god, to be a good person? to have fun, to experience life? sounds great for someone stable, not someone like me, who can't see life past 30. if i have to deal with two decades of trauma, family issues, financial issues, society issues, medical issues, gender issues, anxiety, depression, and a fried nervous system for the rest of my life, then there has to be a destination. but since it's all a journey and nothing is guaranteed, why do i have to survive daily for god knows how long when nothing is predictable? i don't mind suffering if my dream life is guaranteed, but to suffer just in case maybe i might live my dream life? then, fuck no. i don't have the patience to wait. all my patience has been taken away by my suffering.
when i was 6 years old, i was sitting with my relatives, who were watching a show. i didn't know at the time that i was going to witness a scene that will be tattooed in my head forever: a woman grabbing a gun and shooting herself in the heart. the idea of killing myself felt fascinating, and i told my cousin i wanted to do it. a decade and almost a half later, i'm finding myself so torn between whether i should give life a chance or not. a couple of months ago, i was drowning in my brain, the brain that once was my escape, now turned into a rotten place. it's so disgusting and fried, sometimes i wish i could stab it with a knife to stop the thoughts. i'm tired of thinking. i'm tired of using my brain. the only way to describe it is that it's split in two. the second half has thoughts that devalue the thoughts of the first half, so i'm constantly at war. i don't know what's right and what's not. when my brain gets too unbearable, i start shaking my head and hands so aggressively like a crazy person. i've had to deal with that for the last 12 months while studying for my bachelor exam that i failed last year, plus trying my best to keep myself calm from the thousands of triggers i feel through my body daily, caused by small things like my father yelling at my mother. now, i don't know if that's a small thing. you tell me, because i have no idea whether what i went through with my family is that bad or not. i don't know if watching your father financially and emotionally abuse you and your mother for almost 20 years is bad enough for me to have a fried nervous system or not. sometimes i wish my family abused me more so i could stop gaslighting myself into thinking that what i went through isn't bad enough for me to run away from home and never talk to my family again. i don't know if i can do it. i thought i could, but i don't think i can anymore. i wish i had the same audacity and courage that 16 year old me had about cutting off my family. but the economy is crazy, and renting a fucking studio apartment in a nice neighborhood where you don't get harassed is expensive as fuck. and when you look for advice online, you'll find these rich, white, privileged girls talking about being delusional. i'm sorry, but being delusional won't work for a mentally unstable person living in a fucked up 3rd world country with no support system. how am i fucking supposed to build my dream life if this is my reality? like what pearl said in the film pearl: “sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night, and the fear washes over me. what if this is it? what if this is where i belong?”
and that's why i would rather commit suicide than live a life i don't deserve. i will never accept a life i don't deserve, even if it takes ending my own life. and that's why i'm giving life one last chance. just one. to see if things might work out for me. so i'm waiting until mid july for the results to see whether i graduate high school or not. if not, i'm done, because i refuse to bear another year of my cunt of a father not speaking to me for a month just because i failed. i refuse to repeat another year in high school for the 6th time. i refuse to witness another year passing away without me feeling happiness for just once. you might say, "why don't you get a job or move out?" i'm sorry, but things don't work the same here in my country. there's no such thing as moving out when you turn 18. your whole life is in the hands of your parents unless you get financial independence and choose to cut them off. that's the only way. you can't live your life while still being in touch with your family without the societal and religious pressure being shoved down your throat to follow what your parents are telling you. it's so ridiculous to me how the arab world is filled with poverty and bigger issues, and all they care about is religion and god. well, fuck both. although i believe in god, the minute i dive deep into religion, i get so angry that i want to scream at the sky. they love to say that religion has been twisted, and if you try to understand it well, you’ll know that it's not as cruel and as hard as religious people make it out to be. and i want to believe that, but i always get this question: if life and religion are so unfair, what makes you think god isn’t? maybe he’s not that good anyway. you either follow his complicated rules or you rot in hell. i wonder if what i'm saying makes him angry, because imagine, after a lifetime of misery, you still end up in hell!
i could've ended my life years ago, but it always saddened me the fact that all the imagination, poetry, and suffering would go down to waste. imagine all the art that was supposed to be shared with the world, dripping as blood from my body after hitting the ground when i jump from a building. i always wanted to be a star. if there’s a place i would want to be in forever, it’s the stage under the spotlight with thousands of people watching me. i belong on stage, singing my soul out, turning every emotion into beautiful melodies and every thought into poetry. i’m supposed to be a star. i’m built for that life. i want all the flashing lights. i want all the fame. i want my beautiful face to be on billboards and in magazines. i want my beauty and sensuality to be adored by the masses. i want teenage girls online to notice all the details of my clothes, hair, makeup. i want to be seen. i want to be loved. is that too much to ask for? if there was a mother or a father to hold or a god that isn't so complicated to talk to, things wouldn't be so hard.
should i live or die? the question remains unanswered. but one more inconvenience, and i'll be more than ready to go to the highest building in my city and throw my sorry self into the air.
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loveeee how u write omgggg i wanna connect w writers like my style of writing wld u wanna be mutuals,? i posted yesterday too if you’re interested⭐️🦢