Not that I did not love life, but it seems like the beautiful lie yet we all long for the painful truth, which in this case is death. I did hope and believe in love, I could picture it, I could see it, I could feel it but I never knew it. The love that death offers feels tangible, strong enough to convince me to forfeit the light of the day, the corruptible darkness of the night for the indescribable terror of the never ending, indestructible darkness; to behold the beauty of nothingness.
They offered so many solutions but none was fit for my problem; yes, it was a problem. I longed to see humans as humans, not problem solvers nor heroes. Just humans, broken, beaten, chased from the land. Relatable. I needed to see the sin in Christians that causes them to profess the strength of their saviour. But they were too perfect, too perfect to let me meet this saviour. Where would I base my faith then? I was of a lower moral standard to fit into their holy circles. Almost like, before you are one of them you needed to be perfect. No stain, no sin. Be like Jesus.
The fallen angel would understand me better. I can’t even cry right now because I feel like the life ahead, or the everlasting death ahead, might be torturous but totally relatable. Alive in their circles though a zombie always hid my face. Self righteous stands and holy joe mentality decomposed the part of my brain that knew sanity; but when I turned to the world away from the religious it was too heathen. How then do I find my place?
I won’t let this build up inside of me. Let me get a catch in my throat- choke, tear myself to pieces. In this, I would give them a chance to say that they loved me all along; even to start campaigns of sensitization against deaths that come like mine is about to. They will get to ask questions like, ‘How do we even go on to live without him?’ A question which they will have an answer to immediately I’m buried.
When you read this, I’ll be gone. You will have one less person to think about, one less mouth to feed, one less problem. You will have more time for yourself, more time to fight for your opinions on politics, feminism, being vegan. One less life, maybe then you will realize that how we live isn’t who we are because we are more than our bodies. Maybe then you will realize that the human being is more than the issues they face. Maybe then, you will fight for human life and not cheap opinions that will change in a few decades. You had me. You lost me. Don’t pretend to be sad nor should you cry.
Disclaimer: I do not own the art used above. All rights reserved to the artist Caitlin Jackson. To see this and more of Caitlin Jackson’s work Click Here