Death at 30

Ten years ago to this day, I decided that if I’m just as unimpressed with life as I was then by the time I’m 30 I would take my life in some exciting fashion. Maybe walk off a building or perhaps blow my brains out in a public way. I’m 27 years old now and still pretty tired of everything life has to offer. Often times I find happiness for what feels like the blink of an eye and it’s gone just like that. Moments of the illusion of joy or hope and it’s over as quickly as it’s started. This is a pattern my life has had since I was a child. Since I escaped my abusive childhood and decided to cut my own way. 

What shocks me is with which ease I manage to accomplish whatever I set my mind to. I am a person who loves challenges and overcoming difficulty, but my upbringing has made me capable of surviving so much that It’s no longer a struggle. It’s more of a mundane repeating loop of ever-fleeting happiness and joy. It’s annoying by this point.

The point of my writing this is to reassure myself that this still seems to be the course I will gladly follow unless something were to change. 27 years and it’s played out identically. I highly doubt something will change my mind this late in the game.

Life has a funny way of feeling like you’ve already died.