Sometimes surviving is trying hard to fall asleep before you fall apart. Sometimes self-destruction is trying to keep going until you just physically cannot do it anymore. I am both of best (worst) worlds. Really depends on which side of the bed I wake up.
Is this the life I had in mind all these years ago when I was dreaming of adulthood? When I envisioned my life in the future, was this the dream? I am not sure. Sometimes I just want to drop everything and run as far away as possible. Just not care. The fight or flight instinct, mostly just flight though, I am not good at taking things head on. Cowards don’t usually do that. I always had this urge to drop everything and live alone in a cabin in the woods somewhere. Just for a bit, just to regain my energy, hibernate a bit. When I was younger, I would always think of going recluse, being away from everyone, being alone just to keep my sanity, just to cope. I dreamed of running away, running to another city where no one knows me, starting anew, beginning again. The worst thing that I realized in my youth was that I could never run away from myself. Not being able to get rid of myself is probably my biggest regret.
Most people say “live your life so you don’t regret it, so you don’t have any regrets”, but I regret everything almost immediately. Is this normal? I never think that I’ve made the right choice, I made the right call, I always second guess and doubt myself. “What if I went with another option?” is always spinning in my mind. I wonder, when I’m on my deathbed, will I lie about my life being just the way I wanted? You know, saying “Yeah, living the dream, no regrets”. Having said that, probably won’t have anyone asking that in the first place.
Am I thinking about all this because I could be dead in less than a year? Do I keep going day and day again, exhausting myself just so I could die faster? Do I keep doing this so I could die and avoid all the consequences, regrets? Most likely. Sudden death would wash away everything I could overthink in my last days, hours, minutes, seconds. I engage in the most sophisticated self-destruction that only I can discern, everyone else just thinks I’m dedicated. Or overworked, or tired. Take your pick.
Unfortunately, I regret most of my life and my choices, I will not sugarcoat it, I don’t see the point. I only recently realized this. I could do with a rewind, loading a saved game before a certain checkpoint, being able to choose again. But I can’t.
Even this, this regret, these feelings of self-pity, loneliness, despair I cannot share with anyone. I have no one left, no one who cares this deeply at least. Burdening someone with strong negative feelings, emotions and thoughts – I don’t see the point. I think I wrote about it once or twice but I do strongly believe (learned it the hard way) that sinking is the business of the one who is sinking.
When I think about it, it always seemed that most of the stuff in my life did not work out. It never was the way I wanted no matter how hard I tried. Come to think of it, I always resorted to plan B or plan C (at best). I don’t remember much of it going according to plan A, probably rare occasions. Of course, sometimes, quite often to be honest, there was no plan, sometimes it was just pure survival, instinct. Pure instinct, I would regret it immediately, wanting to live and survive.
Sometimes the best plan seems to hang myself from the kitchen ceiling.