I was sent to an abyss where I made myself a god; and wrath was my shield. That abyss was concretized by my own imagination, and in whichever creaks and alleys I turned to, I saw no image but that of my self. It was a distorted image which I so desperately tried to envision as true. In such self-made prison of destruction, I saw false as true, wrong as right, death as life, and god as me. I was my own god.
I deliberately allowed my self to drown in intoxicants. To put it in a rather exaggerated way, I shot myself in the head and watched my self wither, wilt, and fall to the grave I painstakingly made. I worked laboriously to be the famed wretched soul ever to walk in this lifetime. And I succeeded in doing so. I was pervasive, blatant, putrid and destructive. And in my own judgment, I envisioned my self as a prophet.
Blackness was my insignia.
I lost my truest essence from the ravenous search for popularity. I was a stranger to my own spirit, and a threat to my inherent goodness. But I was too proud to admit defeat.
I felt the stones that were cast on me. I retaliated with my fierce tongue and my piercing glares. I felt powerful. I felt invincible. I felt unconquerable.
Then I woke up, quite in a sudden. I saw my own sanctuary of wretchedness crumbled in my face. I began to see how I destroyed my self, and the evilness I created catapulted on me. What have I done to this so-called shelter of the spirit? Why did I willingly allow my own death to come? What image did I project to the society? An image that was not me. An image that was caught up in greed.
I do not intend to condone my lost years.
In a few weeks, I will once again shed a year and move on to increase my biological age. It is still a wonder why my reflections are mostly brought about by the approach of a new year. And as I reflect on how my life has been, I begin to see with the veils of ignorance drawn. I was caught in a web of blind faith. Yes, I was blinded and strained for countless reasons. I WAS. And that was a choice I made. But now, I choose to live. I choose to make amends for the life I lived in contempt. I am chewing and swallowing humble pie. I am growing up, and I hope the rest of the world is, too.
Do not sit and watch your selves get eaten up by intoxicants – whether or not they feel satisfactory to your senses. Look at me. I was a product of suicide. But I resurrected my self to warn you of the dangers I faced. The life we live is the product of the choices we make. We create the world we live in. Let it be the one that gives us peace and repose.
And this single truth remains – we are not bodies with souls. We are souls with bodies. The pleasure this world gives is not one that is perpetual. There is something interminable once this earthly existence ceased. Thus, in this transitory life we have, let not a single minute be wasted with empty talks, cadaverous living, and futile thoughts. For once we terminate our rationality, we, in the long run, terminate our entitlement to true happiness which is beyond what this temporal life could offer.
