I shared something deep and meaningful in apology the other day. The topic was raised by something someone said before me, something about not wanting to be here. JOB 10:19 If only I had never come into being.
I’ve known about this bible verse since school. It has always resonated. I ask myself the question, baring this in mind: Would I like to live my same life again? Exactly the same life.
Totting up the pros and the cons, the answer would have to be no. There’s been loads of magic, don’t get me wrong, but the bad times outweigh the good ones, I feel. I couldn’t bear to go thru all this agony again. Granted, it’s made me the person who I am today, and today I feel fine, great even, a warrior like, but the process to becoming one involves some rare stunts dude! Involving sharing a bed with rats and tarantulas sometimes! Could it get any more painful? And that was the easy part of the trials and tribulations which have made me…
I’m torn if I’m honest, because saying that I wouldn’t live this life again makes me feel like a pessimist who’s had a boring experience. The psychosis in later years takes the boring part away. I was too busy thinking on my wits to be bored, or depressed. I’ve probably been more mad than I have been sad. These days I tend to be more morose than lively, as I’ve calmed down all my anger and don’t do hatred. What I’m left with is indescribable joy and a peace beyond all human understanding, which are both under constant threat from the modern world, the flesh and the devil. It’s super difficult keeping hold of certain commodities once you understand how priceless they are.
Love. Hope. Joy. Peace.
They don’t teach you about these at school. Or university for that matter. I had to virtually lose and recover them myself to discover their true worth. It was harder than a death in the family when I embarked on my pilgrimage to reclaim my love and hope towards the end of last summer. The experience left me emotionally drained, depleted almost, I dropped everything including alcohol and nicotine and was left physically hobbled in a state of sober, irrational humour, laughing breathlessly at things I had never previously found funny. Most of this was nerves.
The situation of me laughing at nothing was starting to grab people’s attention and they began ringing the police, saying I was responding to unseen stimuli, in a vain attempt to get me hospitalised. My laughter is a dangerous game in pubic, it is commonly hated by the bitter snitches who can’t handle it.
In my more paranoid days, I believed that the sound of laughter released secret spy creatures from weaponised cameras to investigate the origin of the sound. Just as laughter occurred, I would see little beings appearing in my peripheral vision on cue. Seriously, just as screams of anguish affect us enlightened ones, our ripples of jovial happiness affect the dark side.
But don’t let that stop you giggling! x
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