I have lived in Hell all my life. Is not that bad, I calculate I live in the periphery more less with frequent trips to the deeper layers, where all the cursing and the gnashing of teeth. And even, some people seem to live nearer to Bliss, so is not all pitch black. This last year it came to me, the definition of myself as a portable hell, because hell is not a Place, but a Sensation.
There was a time when what others enjoyed I suffered, but at least I could do it, I could walk among them with the expresionless mask of psychological dysfunction, deep in loneliness and confussion. Eventually I landed in a deeper grief, pain became my daily bread when physical dysfunction occured as a result of the self-destructive nature of the psychically tortured.
All of this makes me deeply depressed, but, more importantly, fills me with righteous anger. Anger is better than depression. Has been worthy living? I don´t know. Oh... fuck yeah, it has been a demonic ride, but what a ride! I am here in this prison and an eternal flame lives inside me. Something that goes beyond.
What I know is that simply giving up or even killing yourself is definetely not worthy. Fight back, always. Scream to the sky, curse your creator if you want, but do not embrace defeat. Improve yourself, improve the world. Look for the answers, figure out why, and then how, which is what you really wanted since you were born.
Bad but good
Blog entry posted by Beyond, Nov 5, 2013.