it’s not about you, and things people don’t ask

This week has started off to a rough start for some of my acquaintances. A friend of theirs has died, and from all their “Why? What could I have done?”s, it is assumed it was as a result of suicide. I used to have this person as an acquaintance, and as such, news of his death startled me, but I didn’t ask why, or what I could have done. I asked what happened, and what will happen from now on.

Because it’s not about what I could have done, or anyone else short of physically intervening in the act if it was suicide. It’s about what he felt, where he was, and what he wanted to happen after doing it. It’s not about how they feel, or how affected they are by the death. It’s about what he was going through, and what led him there. Maybe why for some, but not for me; because the why is pretty easy. Existing is just not worth the effort.

Why suicide is mostly about the people committing it weighing the efforts expended in staying alive to the worth off staying alive. Some aim to commit suicide and find that staying alive is worth it. Others find that it isn’t. Some are motivated by external forces; bullying, financial ruin, academic pressures and demands, work stress, social burdens like ungrateful, demeaning family and friends, and a social environment that demeans one’s existence, or caring for family with conditions that drain upon one’s energies. Others are motivated by internal forces involving mental unhealthiness. Mental disorders, and illnesses can lead one to try and commit suicide multiple times. Stress is inevitably a common factor in motivating suicide. People are not.

Making suicide about the people who cared for the deceased can be noble, and appreciative of how much they feel for the deceased, but it isn’t the only thing, or the greatest concern. Unless one person’s suicide is a motivator for others’, the focus should be on the deceased. On what motivated them, and how one doesn’t need to look dishevelled, and distraught to be suicidal.

Stating that they were always smiling, or cheerful; that they were outgoing and friendly every time you saw them doesn’t mean they were always that way, It means they were that way with you; and even then it doesn’t mean they never once thought of suicide in your presence. It  means they never showed it to you, or said a word.

So when someone commits suicide, don’t look for moments of sadness, or hopelessness. Realise that suicidal people smile, and interact with others regularly without any hint of their feelings of dying. They can have children, and families; they can have exceptional careers, and strong spiritual faith. They can be suicidal, and fighting it everyday. You don’t push them over the edge. When they decide to do it, they have decided to do it. Some may regret it for their decision was flimsy, and had a solution. Others probably won’t care, others still be relieved because the fight with death and life is over. Whatever the case, keep in mind them, their moments of greatness, and moments of great failure. The small gestures that pleased them, and those that made them flawed. For the suicide is about the deceased. May they rest in the peace they sought; and those they’ve left behind be at peace, eventually.

Love, and Things People Don’t Ask

Often, people don’t ask me what it is to love, and be okay with not being with that person. They ask if I’ve ever been in love, and I tell yes, but it seems adding that I didn’t like that person ceases the conversation for them. It doesn’t for me.

Every time love comes up, and the wonders of how can one live without their love, I think of the simplicity in doing so. Literally, just stay away. Don’t communicate, don’t interact; just don’t involve them in your life. Does this men you don’t love them? No. It means you don’t have anything to do with them beyond feeling for them.

Most people find this strange, and the opposite of loving someone. I have observed their ideas on this through their analyses of stories they read, or watch. They believe proximity denotes intensity of emotions; and ridicule the idea of someone being able to love someone else without using any of the five senses in regards to them, that is sight, touch, hearing, taste, or smell. But it happens. People love other people without seeing them, without hearing them, without touching. They do it through having love within themselves.

A lot of the time, people expend too much effort to promote an idea of love being evoked in someone, instead of love already existing in people, and only finding an object of desire when its energy crosses their path. They make movies, write books, preach it in religious spaces and life coaching seminars (which really are religions by themselves), Too many cultures have a binary, cause and effect approach to every aspect of life, which leaves a lot of things deemed unnatural as they can’t be explained for what they are when the mentalities of the cultures refuse to consider what they are as natural. So, ideas like love is inside everyone regardless of an object of desire or affection are deemed ridiculous, and dismissed.

Doing so doesn’t eradicate their existence, however. It doesn’t take the love out of existence. One still loves, one still feels for to whomever they direct their love. They can despair the feeling, or enjoy it, but they don’t have to interact with people to do so. It doesn’t mean that they don’t love the person; but it’s a good option, especially when being close to that person is dangerous in a tangible manner.

I prefer to enjoy the feeling. The warmth it brings, the headiness, the cheer. Despairing has such a lonely taste to it, and hopelessness. That isn’t what one should feel along with love.

When one is raised to believe physical proximity is the only way to experience love, it may seem downright invalidating to love from afar. Despite growing up with parents who were apart due to work commitments more than living in the same house, I still thought interacting with my love everyday was the only way to be in love. I missed out on 2 years of enjoying being in love because of it. I wasn’t supposed to interact with them, though. I tried to do that in the 3rd year of loving, but it didn’t work out. I hate physical proximity. Familiarity breeds contempt with me, and so, the love feelings started dying. I had to let it go for the sake of myself, and feeling good. It wasn’t easy. It hurt a lot, but accepting that was greater relief. It was worth it. A little practise, and a lot of resolve made it happen.

No title, just thoughts

All the intentions of writing regularly go out of the window when I find everything I want to write about is something negative. And I’m more tired, and incoherent than not when I want to. These feelings, tangible and intangible, make my writing suffer. Most times I want to care, but I don’t. Other times, I care, and try to write on paper, especially now with electricity outages occurring as if they’ve been paid to do so. Writing on paper is easy access, and reliable. It’s also less about editing and more flow. Even that, though, isn’t remedying the restlessness, the inefficiency in me. Exercising, long walks, music; nada. Meditation just makes me sad, and is always being interrupted by family. I want to return to gicagi. I’ll trade red spiders with smooth skin for non-productivity and feeling overwhelmed by anything. I’ll trade hot rooms, being awake at 2 am after sleeping four hours, I’ll stay in darkness and shower in a room I don’t like to write and write well. To put things out that feel like what I want them to be. To have space to feel, and think, and execute my plans. To ge back to writing, and writing well.