Smart & Like-Minded Followers

Friday, 11 April 2014

If I died...

“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.”
Seneca


There are times when the emotional tide is high and I seem to get drowned in my own sea of imponderables. It doesn’t detach me from reality because no matter how grave the situation is, I know that there is always a way out: Therefore, I would never take my life. That is the premise to this piece of writing.

To be honest, sometimes when a situation is hard to handle, I have contemplated upon a world without me which one has to face whether it has rained or shone. The thought that has given me sleepless nights and tired eyes, is done with and the worst is over and settled. The aftermath is relatively easier to deal with than when one is stuck in the situation. Honestly, if I were removed from the equation of life, it would start off a chain reaction that would change the lives of everyone I know and have had an encounter with.

Here’s my story: A couple of years ago, I was going through a rough phase at school (what grown ups call peer pressure).  It was as if everything was going downhill. I vividly remember locking my room behind me and crying my eyes out. The dilemma from anger to frustration to grief has three stages:
·         Stage one: Weeping
·         Stage two: Questioning
·         Stage three: Reasoning
Once you are in stage three you calm down and find a solution to your problem and things doesn’t seem that hard anymore. I have gone through the three stages between despondency and hope and I discovered the fourth stage. I would call it the stage of ‘Pessimistic Thinking’ which emanates from not being able to find a solution and therefore rambling around the issue. I went into this zombie-like trance and unfortunately my eyes fell upon a screwdriver that was lying on my table. My brain projected it as an opportunity: an opportunity to redeem myself. I’m not proud of what I did next... I held the screwdriver tightly in my hands and prepared to make a deep and fatal cut but as I began to lower the screwdriver, the next thing I knew, the screwdriver is on the floor and I was curled up in a ball crying. I had contemplated on the worst and nearly gave away such a precious gift- the gift of life. Every time I think of that night, I see it as one of the lowest points in my life.

Imagine if I were gone, the sky would still be blue, the stars would still shine and Mumbai will continue to keep her beating heart alive but if I had died Mumbai would have lost a budding aspirant and the sky and stars would have lost their ardent admirer.  If I had died my family would be broken, torn and relationships would been left frayed like the ends of a ribbon. My mother would  wake up every morning knowing that she has one less tiffin to pack, one less member to prepare a meal for, one less person to buy new clothes and accessories for and be left with only one child to love. If I died she would never rearrange my room, or fold my clothes neatly because I know that she would bury her soft head in my wardrobe and weep for her lost little girl and beg St. Anthony to bring her back. I could never do that to my mother, I could never to that to the woman who gave birth to me, took care of me for nine months and beyond, risked her life to give birth to me. No, I have no right to be that selfish.

If I ceased to exist, my father would be left heartbroken. All his dreams and hopes would be crushed but he’d be angry at my actions. He’d be grief stricken that I chose to abandon him instead of confiding in him. He’d pretend to be furious but I know that he’d secretly look at our pictures together and won’t be able to  stop those tears falling because despite our ups and downs he’d miss me and would not let anyone know how he  feels. I couldn’t punish him by taking my life, it would ruin him completely.

If I died, my brother would never forgive me. He’d curse himself and take the blame for my death because I know that his biggest regret would be that he couldn’t save me. Like my father he’d feel betrayed and I know that he’ll take the longest to move on because I  am his baby sister,  the one who left chocolate wrappers on his bed, the one who asked him fashion advice and  the only one who would download his favourite TV shows and discuss it with him.

If I died, my best friend would never come to terms with my death. She’d read all these old posts, our messages, our videos and she’d keep doing this till she memorised the sound of my voice and the features in my face. She’d be scared that one day she’d wake up and forget me. She would never let me or ‘us’ go because I know how much I meant to her. She’d never understand why I did what I did because she’d keep thinking that I’d call her and run to give her a big hug. I know that if I died she would call herself a bad friend and cry incessantly. I know that she’d be there for my family even though she can barely hold her own.

Therefore You, out there who feels lonely and lost and desperate for some kind of approval and help, I have been exactly where you are and I know what the true definition of feeling like a loser is. Trust me good things happen but it takes time and time can heal all wounds. You’re not a loser, you’re never alone, you’re not a waste of space and you don’t have the right to take your life. Don’t run away from a situation, face it no matter how bad the circumstances are, finish this once and for all and move on with your life. Find a solution and not an easy way out because at the end of the day you’d be grateful that you weren’t stupid to take your life.
At least, my mother found me in the morning, on a tear stained pillow with red, blood shot eyes and dark circles lining them. It’s far better than her finding me cold, still and lifeless.

“But in the end one needs more courage to live than to kill himself.”
Albert Camus