Last year in December, I almost lost my mother to a home robbery with violence. The neighbors said they found her in a pool of her own blood and were shocked to find her still breathing. I never wanted to hear what exactly happened and each time my mum willingly recounted what had happened to guests that visited and asked, (and boy did they ask!) I would find myself going to the toilet or bedroom, or to the shops for anything needed. Sometimes however, I would have to serve the well-wishers and so unwillingly, I got snippets of the story- still not the whole story. I never want to know the whole story.
That December, even as I was reminded of how little control we have over the amount of fuckery can happen to us, I was also reminded of how fragile life is and how so very easily it can slip away, and just like that, we are gone never having gone all out living our lives.
Death it seems, exists to remind me how fiercely I must live. (Mental note to consider getting a tattoo symbolizing death)
And that was why 2016 was the year to be ballsy and say “FUCK IT!” to most of my fears. I thought to myself, “What would I regret not doing this year if I were to die December 2016”? And are those then, not the things closest to my heart? I do love to teach and I would teach film any day, but next to actually making films, the latter wins hands down. Being surrounded by people passionate about the same has been a major help because the simple act of being present on a film set just does wonders, and helps me stay close to sanity in lows when I would normally just throw everything away. And I have been broke then balling then broke, and life goes on. And by and by, even though most of my passions are things whose perfections are still not easy to achieve, they are becoming more effortless to attempt. And they never stop making me NOT regret NOT committing suicide.
Being in and out of depression these last few weeks, I am once again reminded why I chose to live. Choice. Since I consciously made that decision, I sort of strike back at life by taking what’s within my reach that makes me happy. My first 19 years of life consisted of taking mainly shitty stuff life threw and being too afraid or helpless to exchange some of those things for better ones. I vowed to not live like that and for a while I had forgotten it, but I remember that now. I don’t want to do things I do not want to do, and then turn back and shake a miserable fist at life. Life is an unfeeling thing that just unfolds and doesn’t even get shaken when you’re angry at it. It’s not like a human you can slap back and feel better.
And I know not everything will go my way but like hell I will choose what I do to make me feel better when shit happens; and shit will happen. I want to get more into the habit of doing things I want; things which build and make me happy, to make me feel close to unscathed when things don’t go my way. Like streaming Netflix with the hot guy next door, and planning for more but then discovering he is 0% kinky. Sure your dry spell may persist, but the internet hog you are, got the Wi-Fi password, didn’t you?
And it’s really not about looking at the brighter side. It’s honing your night vision with the knowledge that darkness fucking happens and sometimes it’s there to stay for longer than one night or a week.
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