So during my darkest moments my leftover religious tendencies kick in and I instinctively end up praying for "a sign." I usually don't even know what the sign is that I'm asking for or how to look for it, so I just cry it out, go on a self help bender until I burn out, and repeat.
Then today happened.
I was going on a walk with my mother and sister when I got a text saying my hanging desk had fallen off the wall. While upset, I've been in a decent mood so I just shrugged it off and said I would fix it later, no biggie. I go to check the damage when I get home and as soon as I see it I immediately think:
This is my sign.
All my stuff, my valuables, my trinkets and creations, are scattered and variously broken across the floor and the desk is sitting in the middle of my room, moved by my father to clean up the spill on the floor that was caused by a half empty can of Ghost.
A wave of emotions rush over me and all I can think is this is it. I began to cry and my family thought it was because of the desk but it was because I realized that it's my time to go. My life is just like this desk in a way, unstable and filled to the brim with unnecessary bullshit, and it finally buckled under the weight of it all. I'm mountains in debt, sharing a room with a 12 year old because I can't get my own place, my parents abroad haven't spoke to me in months, and I don't even want to get started on my romantic failures, or lack thereof. It's time to buckle.
The rational part of me knows that the desk was destined to fall because we put it in the wall wrong, it was only a matter of time. But I guess that sentiment goes for people too.
I don't know if it'll be tonight, I don't think I have enough tools, but I anticipate that by the end of the week I'll be gone. Thank you all for listening to my stories and vents and I really hope all of you find peace someday in some form or another.
Then today happened.
I was going on a walk with my mother and sister when I got a text saying my hanging desk had fallen off the wall. While upset, I've been in a decent mood so I just shrugged it off and said I would fix it later, no biggie. I go to check the damage when I get home and as soon as I see it I immediately think:
This is my sign.
All my stuff, my valuables, my trinkets and creations, are scattered and variously broken across the floor and the desk is sitting in the middle of my room, moved by my father to clean up the spill on the floor that was caused by a half empty can of Ghost.
A wave of emotions rush over me and all I can think is this is it. I began to cry and my family thought it was because of the desk but it was because I realized that it's my time to go. My life is just like this desk in a way, unstable and filled to the brim with unnecessary bullshit, and it finally buckled under the weight of it all. I'm mountains in debt, sharing a room with a 12 year old because I can't get my own place, my parents abroad haven't spoke to me in months, and I don't even want to get started on my romantic failures, or lack thereof. It's time to buckle.
The rational part of me knows that the desk was destined to fall because we put it in the wall wrong, it was only a matter of time. But I guess that sentiment goes for people too.
I don't know if it'll be tonight, I don't think I have enough tools, but I anticipate that by the end of the week I'll be gone. Thank you all for listening to my stories and vents and I really hope all of you find peace someday in some form or another.
