Strings That Binds Us

↳ 05

You're still here?

Did you find the preceding entries comforting? Did you see your reflection in those? If you're mentally ill, I hope you're not here and reading this to feel the need for validation to cease to exist. I did not inscribe this to advise you to take the same option I choose.

And if you're not, let me ask you this, are you here because you're prying to know what runs inside the head of a person who has a sick brain? Do you want to understand a person who's suicidal? If yes, thank you.

But If not and you're here just to fuel your mind that I've wasted my life and that I just lacked attention. Close this as soon as possible. I don't want more people getting frantic at me for deciding to desist my life.

Don't get me wrong I never wanted to be mentally ill. I was even a devoted Catholic, I've been praying for my whole life after I woke up in the morning and before I sleep in the evening. I attend mass every Sunday and I never omitted to tell my gratitude for all the blessings that I have gained.

I've even asked myself how could this occur when I was always appreciative and I never got sore at the world for making me feel this way. So don't ever presume that the reason why I took my life is that I was lacking in faith.

Nevertheless perhaps yes, I obliged attention but it was a cry for help, yet no one noticed.

Moving on, let's get the fact straight, alright? Depression is a mental illness and a mental illness is a real illness. It can never pass away in a single snap. It's not a deadly sin. It's not only inside a person's brain, it's an ailment of a brain. It's real and it can't be healed by a prayer at times. It also needs professional help and the right medication.

For sure, some would deem that I'm burning in hell much worse than I was because taking one's life is a fatal sin. I am aware of that but if you think depression equates to lacking faith. I apologize but I could never conform to that.

Anyway, I've read an Arabic quote that says, if you want to die, throw yourself into the sea and you'll see yourself fighting to survive. You do not want to kill yourself, rather you want to kill something inside of you.

And it's precise. Being able to show up every day, wearing a mask even if I'm drowning in sadness is a fight to survive. I did not want to annihilate myself but there's something inside me that I want to be gone but it's an impossible case for me because I felt like I needed to disappear too in order to do that.

Believe me, I tried to find reasons to stay but all I found were reasons to leave. I found nothing, I felt nothing.

All I knew is that one day I wake up being numb, taking my time to get up from bed or not wanting to get out of it at all, or one thing you're just gazing out of nowhere and then the next thing you're crying for no reason, you asked yourself the same question over and over again, why am I here? or when you want to do something but you have no impulse even for the things you once love to do.

I feel trapped inside a world where I could not see any colors. There's no hope, no happiness, and no reasons to strive for my being. Even myself is not enough to hold on to that thin string of despair not to leave everything I love behind.

I attempted to save myself from sinking but I was already in the depth where I can no longer hold on to something. My tremors were too heavy that they pushed me farther and I never had the chance to hover and float over it.

It's true that no man is an island, but I want to add something to that quote: No man is an island, but one can be even if there's a sea of people around.

People who are deluded, resistant, and have no empathy to fathom the essence of a mental illness. It's not only being in sorrow, being afflicted, or being sad. Its definition is not shallow, it can never be described by simply looking at its surface.

Trust me, just dive into its depth.

Because it's sad to apprehend that a person can only sink into it once it transpired to them or once it happened to a person they cherished.

And until now, I could never comprehend whypeople only see how profound you are once you're gone, when it already happens, and all they could do is grieve. 

Why is compassion being yielded when it's too late already?