I'll be honest... I've thought about life and death a fair bit (as anyone would have). I've had a near death experience before and though it inspired me to start tattooing affirmations on my body, it never stopped me thinking about what happens when we go into the light (which I didn't see, I only saw darkness... Maybe I was going to Hell? Haha)
The sad thing is, I've been a selfish suicidal prick before, and to say this mood swing is a rare occurrence is a slight understatement. I think about death, how it felt for those few minutes, how cold and alone it was... It was peaceful. However, everyone else in that room felt otherwise, however they didn't know it was a suicide attempt, they merely thought it was a drug spiking and alcohol intoxication from the nightclub.
The initial thought when you're, for lack of a better term, 'brought back from the dead' , is 'are you fucking kidding me? I JUST tried to get away from this!' (selfish, I know, ungrateful, fucking oath).
Although I then turned my life around and started trying to walk a better path, this thing we're all trying to figure the meaning out of, life, likes to throw little side paths at us which can take us back to the dark places we all came from.
The way I've always imagined death, or suicide in this case, is as that of a persona who's been whispering in my ear. I've never viewed it as an enemy, I've never feared it, even when family members and friends have passed away, I've reacted indifferent to it. When someone passes away, to me it's like losing a coworker; they've gone off to a better job (hopefully one that pays better) and won't be in on Monday, and their position won't be replaced, you're just going to run short staffed until the business closes.
I guess my indifference towards death is some form of coping mechanism my brain has constructed.
Now if you've read up to this point, one - thanks, I tend to ramble on, and two - here's where I find a lesson to be learnt.
I'm currently sitting in room 2 of a little countryside hospital trying to convince my brother that his life is worth living and that he shouldn't end it. The tables have turned and it's suddenly like I'm trying to convince what would have been me some few years ago, to not give up.
I guess the only difference is, I never had anyone telling me to stay. I never had someone trying to help me like I'm trying to help him now. After this, it's like life is just that little bit more valuable than what I believed it to be.
P.s on a completely different topic, if my heart stopped (which it did) and I was brought back from the dead, am I a zombie?
Xx, Wezzy Crze...
The sad thing is, I've been a selfish suicidal prick before, and to say this mood swing is a rare occurrence is a slight understatement. I think about death, how it felt for those few minutes, how cold and alone it was... It was peaceful. However, everyone else in that room felt otherwise, however they didn't know it was a suicide attempt, they merely thought it was a drug spiking and alcohol intoxication from the nightclub.
The initial thought when you're, for lack of a better term, 'brought back from the dead' , is 'are you fucking kidding me? I JUST tried to get away from this!' (selfish, I know, ungrateful, fucking oath).
Although I then turned my life around and started trying to walk a better path, this thing we're all trying to figure the meaning out of, life, likes to throw little side paths at us which can take us back to the dark places we all came from.
The way I've always imagined death, or suicide in this case, is as that of a persona who's been whispering in my ear. I've never viewed it as an enemy, I've never feared it, even when family members and friends have passed away, I've reacted indifferent to it. When someone passes away, to me it's like losing a coworker; they've gone off to a better job (hopefully one that pays better) and won't be in on Monday, and their position won't be replaced, you're just going to run short staffed until the business closes.
I guess my indifference towards death is some form of coping mechanism my brain has constructed.
Now if you've read up to this point, one - thanks, I tend to ramble on, and two - here's where I find a lesson to be learnt.
I'm currently sitting in room 2 of a little countryside hospital trying to convince my brother that his life is worth living and that he shouldn't end it. The tables have turned and it's suddenly like I'm trying to convince what would have been me some few years ago, to not give up.
I guess the only difference is, I never had anyone telling me to stay. I never had someone trying to help me like I'm trying to help him now. After this, it's like life is just that little bit more valuable than what I believed it to be.
P.s on a completely different topic, if my heart stopped (which it did) and I was brought back from the dead, am I a zombie?
Xx, Wezzy Crze...
dede:
thank you for sharing that