There's been talk of suicide in pockets of AOL-J. [oooh, the word itself seems so taboo]. While I'm not suicidal, I can't deny that I completely understand the desire to stop living. I get to a place where I don't want to kill myself, but I don't want to live either. This feeling always passes. But while I'm in it, it's almost impossible for me to remember that - and it feels permanent. You know, what about that one time it doesn't pass? But I know nothing is permanent - not even death.
Sometimes I really don't know what I'm living for. I know I have friends. I have Hunny. I write and sing and laugh and love. But so what? Seriously, what are we living for? I know the obligatory answers, To serve God. To know love. To learn about human existence.
Okay then, next question - How? By rising and falling? Through pain and suffering? And the next question - Why? Is it worth it? When I finally know love - what then? What's next?
I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know I am blessed to have breath. I know that nothing is next. I know all we have is this moment. And the choice for love is always available.
Writing is my reflective tool - without it, I might not be here today. And for that, even in despair, I am grateful.