I’m still deciding whether or not I want to live. The problem is that life doesn’t wait for my answer. Everything passes; everything moves forward. And I’m standing on a thin edge between life and death waiting for the wind to blow me one direction or another. Just thinking about makes feel angry, sad, and self loathing. Understanding the logical argument behind why it is not a productive attitude leads me no where. Yet, I can’t help but to be ambiguous about everything.
The longer I live the stronger this ambitiousness becomes. I fear it stems from the facts of life and the clear truth, that I can’t handle life. Normal, simple life: job, home, friends. It all looks so simple to the outsider. But what I see are: conflicts I can’t resolve, problems I can’t solve, bills I can’t pay, space I can’t fill with people, people I can’t connect with.
Knowing all that, it’s almost no wonder I question on daily basis if I want to stay alive. It’s also no wonder, that I re-analyse and reevaluate what “being alive” means. As if that last grain of hope and the tiny curiosity for the world of tomorrow, keeps me ambiguously going.