Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Different Ways to Go

There is first,
of course,
the easiest most joyful way.
Jumping off a bridge
into a vast valley or river.
But there's always the risk
that they might
try to get you back to life,
there might be a telephone
at one end of the bridge
a simplistic therapist on the other side
talking you into his version of reality.
You do not want that,
you do not want to argue for your choices
in those last moments you have left.

Then there is,
obviously,
a safer way,
less prone to the intrusion of 
nobodies trying to talk you back to life.
Those pills that you often did not take
out of fear for your health.
Now that your health is going to die with you,
you're finally off the hook.
But then again you might be caught off-guard,
a friend might call from somewhere far away,
you will not pick up,
then a few hours later
the janitor will open your door with her spare keys,
see you lying silent and almost dead on the couch.
Next thing you wake up in the hospital,
next to all those people striving to remain alive.
No you do not want that.
You do not want life mocking you in the face.

Perhaps there are better ways,
perhaps.
Cutting your wrist and drowning in your own blood.
But what will you do with old memories then?
Memories of childhood, when your mum would say
"careful with the knife",
and you learnt this one single lesson perfectly well,
and you never played with sharp objects, ever.
No, this is even worse than the intrusion of the janitor,
or the therapist over the telephone.
You do not want happy distracting memories in those last moments.
You should forget it all,
Forget that you were once loved.

But you,
you will never make that last move.
Instead, you will learn to live with your pain,
because,
you
are also one of those who were taught to walk lightly on atrocious clouds,
and to turn any darkness into blinding light,
and any lightness into a means to fly.

 

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