Life is beautiful.
A lot of people said that. It is a privilege to have a life to live. To be able to see the world, and to witness how beautiful it is.
The world have been created beautifully by its creator. But who created it anyway?
According to science, it is through Big Bang Theory. It is how the universe expanded from an initial state of high density and temperature. Meanwhile, biblically, the world is created by God. He, whom no one have seen, magnificently created the world we’re living in. As per the beliefs of religious people. Consequently, the world is perceived as the place where life is. A lot of planets were created but only the Earth offers bio — which means life.
It has lands — where living things could move; where nonliving things is present. And the bodies of water — where the fishes, turtles, and other species who lives in underwater are found; where the depths of life lies beneath the land. Also, the air — where something could fly... freely.
And every time we look above, we could see the heaven or the atmosphere or simply... the sky. At five in the morning when the sun will rise, and will set at five in the evening — being replaced by the moon and the stars whom gave off unwavering light. And the clouds... how could I forget?
I love how the world is created. I love everything about the creations where none of us — people — knows who’s responsible of all of these. And it keeps me wondering why life is hard when it’s beautifully made?
The world is created for the people to live, yet the world is cruel to the people. Injustice, inhumane deeds, crimes, misconducts, inequality, and suchlike. Which I loathed the most.
I hate how these suchlikes are even rampant nowadays. It seems like it’s being normalized by people who keeps on taking advantage from people who are oppressed; who doesn’t have the courage to stood for themselves; who are powerless.
Technically, life is not beautiful at all. It has flaws and imperfections. The same goes with a person. And then people will simply say “Embrace your flaws” or “Your flaws doesn’t define you” or just the usual, “We are not perfect”, then lowkey judge and mistreat someone because of it.
I have dreamed of being someone who’s capable of eliminating oppression. I perceived myself as someone who’s brave enough to stand for what is right, to protect the welfare of every human beings, and to attain equality amidst disparities. Unfortunately, all of it are just a part of my wide imagination, my never-ending reveries.
Through my strong and unchangeable goals and ambitions, I have misconstrued myself. I created a version of myself where I could no longer fit in. I imposed my version of myself to other people whose high and mighty and smart and brave and beautiful. Yet none of it is true.
If only they could read my mind. If only they know how I struggle with mathematics, scientific equations, grammar construction, then they could... affirm that I am not who they think I am.
I don’t know myself at all, and it frustrates me. I am capable of something but I’m not good at it. I craved for validations and invalidated my own capabilities. My limits.
I have to be better... no scratch that. I have to be the best for my own self-satisfaction because if I won’t satisfy myself, I would get drown by unbearable sadness that I could no longer swim. I would disappoint everyone, especially myself.
My greatest enemy — I hated to admit this — is myself.
I hate how my mind works. I hate how it makes me feel small of myself. I hate how it delivers pain into my heart in which prohibits a single pulse to happen. And it’s very painful. The tightening in my ribcage... it suffocates my well-being. I could not breathe. It makes me wanna die instantly.
I hates, hated, will hate myself forever. I believe none of my parts are even worthy to be loved. I couldn’t even build strong relationships with other people without thinking of them as my rival. Every person I let to be included in my life, for once or twice or trice; I lost count, I treated them as a threat. Because I have this ideation that I have to be better than anyone else. He thought me that. My father thought me to be a narcissistic bitch.
But, this is me trying. To be a better person for myself. I let people in my life without having doubts because I am tired of being labeled as someone whom I thought I wasn’t. I let them hear my stories, knows the depths of me... only to be betrayed by them.
And it intoxicates me. Sardonically, I would just laugh everything out and make fun of it. However, as days passed by, it’s even harder for me to open up and trust other people. It’s like I am caging myself from potential harm — for my well-being and to keep me sane.
That’s why it hurts me so much when people would say things about me even though I don’t care about it. Their words... it’s like knives who stabbed my heart and slices it into tiny pieces. It lingers in my mind and would eventually echoes every single time. It affects me because it would be painted in my mind and it keeps on repeating and repeating. Like a boomerang.
It maybe just words but it’s more painful than physical pain. Because you don’t know where the pain is. You couldn’t locate for you to mend it. Unlike physical pain or wound, you could easily heal it.
That’s why I have to hurt myself every time I am in pain. That’s why I have to cut my wrist every time I don’t know what’s going in my head, so I could have a diversion of pain. So I know where the pain is. It gives me thrill as I find my pulse... so I could end it.
You wouldn’t understand it, but it satisfies me. I could cry my heart out as I feel the throbbing in my chest, but I couldn’t apply alcohol or betadine to heal it. It’s crazy right?
How ironic it is that people claim life is beautiful when it’s full of silent battles, unheard sides of the stories, untold naked truths, silent cries, and helpless nights. And it’s frustratingly sad that people have to suffer. Fuck, sufferance.
People are unbelievable. They would cause you harm, but when it’s you that harms yourself worries them. They get sad when you die, but never valued your existence when you’re still alive. People are the primary cause of someone else’s death, because the world is cruel, and so does the people living in this world.
People expects a lot from me. Well, they will say it’s love. I don’t even know what love is, how it feels like, or it’s just like their God... it doesn’t exist.
I am surrounded with people but I couldn’t even tell them how my thoughts are slowly creeping in my head like a thief at night trying to steal something — stealing my worth as a person. Self-love? That sucks because I don’t love myself at all. Not even a bit.
And death.
Death amazes me. I’m in awe whenever I pictured myself in my mind inside a coffin wearing the best dress I never worn before. Well, I’m scared of blood so I didn’t wished of being killed through guns or sharp objects. But, I wished for a silent death. Under the spell of my reveries, I get drown, and never woke up.
However, death like that are most likely will not happen. Self-harm does.
Hmm, life is beautiful, isn’t? You get to live your life, enjoy every ounce of it, suffer... then die. Does it fascinates you?
