Category: Uncategorized
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On suicide and insecurity and…my life
The odd thing about suicide is that it sometimes seems like a romantic end to a painful life. But if there was a single time in your life when something unexpectedly pleasant happened, it gave you a taste of hope that creates the doubt, no matter how little, that suicide may not be the answer. The fact is, we don’t know what the next moment brings, let alone tomorrow…although the trends of our lives may provide some predictability as to what to expect.
It’s when we dismiss the notions of hope, and worse, when we dismiss the opportunities of happiness that we succumb to our nihilistic tendencies to want to find comfort in the surety of knowing, rather than the insecurity of hope. Eventually when we’re faced with the possibility of happiness, we’re reminded about the pain associated with the retraction of that happiness from our last experience, or experiences, and in typically human fashion, we avoid that which hurts us, especially if that hurt is prompted by others rather than a hurt that we choose for ourselves.
I’ve stared death in the face more than once…and it’s not a pleasant place to be at all. It’s a conflicting place to be because no matter my conviction, my hard-wired survivalist instinct always left me uneasy about my choice to want to end my life, because in the back of my mind I knew that I was being insincere by denouncing the infinite possibilities that actually exist towards finding happiness.
But the greatest realisation in all this was, for me anyway, that my misery is often a making of my own choices. I’m not saying that I chose to be miserable…I always chose to pursue happiness, but the choices I made in such a pursuit had an inherent risk of making me the target of betrayal, condescension, ridicule or just blatant cruelty, not because of who I was, but because of who I sought such happiness with. I saw my fragility and vulnerability in them, and so naively assumed that they would appreciate me appreciating that tenderness in them…instead, as is the nature of those that are insecure or overwhelmed, they struck back blindingly because the realisation of their vulnerability being exposed was too daunting for them, and so the trend of their lives that taught them not to trust resulted in me being the untrusted one.
I didn’t choose that outcome, but I did choose to risk trying to connect with a troubled soul knowing that they may not embrace me the way I was wanting to embrace them. And in knowing that I am myself a troubled soul, my naivete, coupled with my unnatural idealistic optimism compels me to continue wanting to touch the beauty that I always see lurking behind the sad eyes of kindred spirits, having absolutely no reason to believe that they would reciprocate…ever.
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uninspired
not finding reason for inspiration when i need it leaves me more uninspired than i was when i started realising i’m the one thats always noticing and feeling and sensing and hardly ever being noticed or sensed or felt making melancholy a state i aspire to because at least i would feel something then instead of this emotional void that defines my existence that is bereft of human attachment not for lack of wanting nor for lack of trying but simply because i lack the inspiration for another to attach because theyre looking for what im looking for and we both cant give each other what we need making the familiarity romantically tragic but infinitely depressing because i know how much the other needs what i am looking for but want to receive it first before giving it so i slip into morbidity and focus my disillusions on others believing that the purpose of my life is indeed to be an example to others so that they may realise what their life will be like if they make the mistakes that i made which is why i make my mistakes known without restraint hoping theyll appreciate the lesson behind it but only ever being judged by it instead
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The day we question the sincerity, intention and motivation of our own leaders as much as we question this about the western nations, that is the day that the Ummah may arise from its slumber, Insha-Allah. Until then, we will continue to follow blindly, establish our identities ritualistically, and be oblivious to the principles and logic that Islam has blessed us with.
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“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”
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Fyodor Dostoevsky (via misanthropyaddict)
What starts this lie? Is it a lack of belief in ourselves? Is it a sub-conscious effort to protect ourselves from pain? Is it an instinctive response to protect ourselves in the face of uncertainty because we may not have developed the coping mechanisms needed to face a reality not of our choice or making? And when our perspective of reality is altered to the point where the lie becomes hidden, and we can no longer connect the dots of our dysfunction or dis-ease back to the lie, do we then observe the end state and define a remedy based on that? Or do we start with the assumption that a state of dis-ease or dysfunction is a result of choices made at a time when we were trying to protect ourselves thereby assuming that we’re all functional and balanced to begin with, and then trying to work our way through the maze from the end to the start in order to identify the incident that led down the path that gave birth to the lie that landed us in the state of dis-ease?
