Cookie Just Crumbled

Suicide sounds inviting at this moment. But no, I'm not strong or stupid enough to take my own life. Whoever said that suicide is an act of cowardice is a complete know-nothing half-wit.

Fear of the unknown is what suiciders overcome because they are going to a place they are not familiar with, they don't know what awaits them. No one has come back from the dead (Jesus doesn't count) and told us what it's like when you die, how long you have to wait before you get to that place they call paradise; it's completely unfamiliar territory. So, suicide, an act of cowardice? I don't think so.

I'd rather live and grow old with troubles I've seen other guys go through.

As to where my life is going now, I have no idea, and that to me is suicide.

I might have ruined someone's life and mine along with it.

You know when you reach a certain point in your life and everything feels perfect? If only for a second. That second, that almost unnoticeable moment, is such a haunting thing. You always wonder why things couldn't be perfect like that everyday, because the very next minute, everything that could go wrong, does go wrong.

I've been told life is about making decisions. True, but up until this moment, that hasn't been what my life has been about. I've just been lucky I guess.

Been playing it safe and nice all this time. Even when I got out into the real world, it was always about keeping people at a distance, watching them from there, letting them know only what I wanted them to know, a lie here and 'a truth' there, it never gets too intimate.

But lately, I've been thinking about what my life will be like in 10 years when I'm thirty. Will I want friends that I can't have, want a child that I can't have because, I can't have a child on my own. Even adoptive parents usually must be married or something.

Will I wake up one day, 30, alone and realize that my failure to make a decision 8 years ago has developed into a nightmare that recurs every time I shut my eyes?

I keep telling myself 'if only things had been different'. But then what? If things would've been different, what would've happened? Would I not have taken that ring? Would I still have taken it. Or would I have wanted to get married the very next day and had ten babies after that? Would he have left me for another woman. Divorced me only to come back to me 20 years down the line, worn out and spent from running around with all sorts of 'other' women?

Would I have run off with another man because I wasn't happy? Would I have allowed myself to remain with him in spite of my deep dissatisfaction? Am I strong enough to do that even?

What am I looking for? It's not perfection; it doesn't exist. I just haven't found it yet.

If only the only real man to any woman, her father, my father were here to answer all these questions.

I wouldn't be in this dilemma.