Day 30 – An Eternal Moment of Nothingness

by Owaiz

This challenge is nearing its end. Or, is it? Took me over 3 months to reach day 30. C’est la vie!

I must say, I never thought it would take this long. But, then, I didn’t expect a lot of things. Life is whimsical in its ways, I know, but I can’t accept it. I’m far too stubborn to accept things as they are. I keep hearing how we have to live in a certain way, laws of the world, rules for the living, yada yada.

I know I sound like an absolute retard, but I refuse to conform. Why should I? I don’t want to, so I won’t.

My plate, nowadays, is full. There is so much I need to think of and about. The future: near, far, etc. I’ve been walking the road too long, and all I need is an eternal moment of nothingness. An infinite moment stretching into infinity; a moment where the world stops. A moment where my world stops. A moment where I cease to exist. I know I need to deal with life and face reality, and I know I have avoided it for weeks now, but I can’t. It’s like going to sleep, knowing you have got 10 hours to sleep. The moment you fall asleep, you wake up. The time is gone, your 10 hours are up. Damn it! Why can’t there be a state of waking sleep? A state where you sleep, yet are aware of the time as it goes by. My moment ends too soon, just like that. I close my eyes to relax for an instant and the moment’s gone. Too soon, I say. It always feels like nothing more than a second. Why? I want more. My mind, now exhausted, needs a break.

But I am alive, and so I have to live. I’m expected to live. I can’t stop doing it all and slide under the sheets in a dark room forever. That’s not allowed. Much is expected of me, I know. Rightfully so, but still. What am I to do? Indirectly being told that I have to live, not by any person but by their existence. They exist. I exist, but only just.

This brings me to the real thing. I can’t have it my way. If I have it my way, I’m not quite right in the head, which is true, because I’m not. Depression eats me from the insides. I’ve stopped taking Zoloft now. The side-effects became too hard to bear, my resolve to get better broke, and I had a relapse. Not an ordinary relapse, mind you. I thought this was another side-effect, the slight depression and anxiety. It went on for 3-4 days. Then, one night, it suddenly hit me full force. All I wanted was to end my life right there and then. I would have, if I were home, but I weren’t. Couldn’t do it. I spent the night miserable, tossing and turning all night, dreaming and wishing for the same thing; aching and yearning to become one with nothing, and cease to exist. Slit the wrist with a blade and watch the royal red blood gush out, go down the drain. A hug from the rope around the neck and imagine the colour draining from the face. Turn on the gas and go to sleep, never to wake up.

This depression is not going away. It was diagnosed too late, and I’m far too messed up to be ‘fixed.’ Why get fixed? To want to get fixed would be to hope in vain, and I don’t hope at all. I’ve realised the depression won’t go away. I had a talk with him. He finally conceded, it won’t go away. He said, ‘but we can control it with meds.’ The meds have side-effects, all of them. I can’t accept or live with myself. I can’t accept myself living a crippled life. I can’t live a life where I have to take meds and become a zombie for as long as I live. No, I won’t accept.

How am I to survive this world then? How am I to live? I’ve been told that I need to accept that some things are just beyond our control, like how long a loved one lives. I know. I understand. But it’s just not good enough. Not for me, that’s not how I’m wired.

If you have depression then I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. You know it, I know. I won’t say it. But I’ll say this: The next post will be important. It will be important because it will not only be the end of this challenge, but also the end of…you know what.

It will either be published posthumously, or it will show that I’ve decided to try again because, perhaps, I’m either a coward or became an optimist. I don’t look at it that way though, those terms are too worldly. I look at either decision as bravery. Shake your head, disagree all you want, but, again, if you have depression, you know how fucking difficult it is. And who wants a life like that? Not me!

I hope making this post is not a mistake. I hope it won’t come back to bite me in the ass.

Keep your fingers crossed, as I contemplate while trying not to contemplate. On the spur of the moment, a decision could be made.

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