I feel fine, most days. Sometimes, I even feel happy. Or at least I think I feel happy. I’m no longer sure how that feels.
Life flows; with or without me. That’s what I have learned. And I have also learned that it would be the same; with or without me. No change, no gaping hole... no one to miss me, find their life to be different without me.
It’s strange knowing that. You’d think it would be liberating. It is, but in a very morbid way. It makes you want to leave. All the time. I should have been okay with that, knowing I don’t matter. Yet, I find myself fighting the feeling. I didn’t know self-preservation was an autonomous thought.
I’m at the curb. I am placidly watching the vehicles whiz by. I wonder what would happen if I stepped in front of one. Will it be painful? I would prefer that it ended fast. I don’t want to end up in a hospital, crippled for life, dependent on the same people I want to leave. Maybe a big, fast SUV or a truck might do the trick. I’m rolling the thought in my mind, testing it, exploring its feel. And my heart begins to pump faster, my chest constricting under the pressure. Drat! This autonomous reaction is beginning to get on my nerves.
Enough for me to fight it. Enough for me to take my foot off the curb to step down.
That’s when I see her; my mom. She is waiting at the curb with me. Waiting to cross the road, reach the other side. I think she will be sad if I go. She might even follow me down the curb. I don’t want to see her sad. Or hurt. She has suffered enough already.
I step back.
Maybe there’s a different solution. I will just have to wait for it.