Life after death
/I have been spending a great deal of time and energy on sadness these last few weeks. A friend took his life in a violent way, and the ripple effect is felt, even though we had not spoken in quite some time. He was always a bit of a lost soul, tortured and sweet, all at once. Most were not even aware of his ongoing inward battle, but I have a sixth sense for this, as I myself experienced it at one point in my life. The day that I died was the best day of my life. Obviously, it was not a permanent state for me, and when I woke up in the hospital bed, I knew that I had been given a second chance. The universe had a plan for me that was bigger than my desire. At that time, I was an empty shell of a person, and had no idea what I was going to do with my life. My strongest desires were to drink and party, escaping the endless turmoil, which rolled inside me constantly. The point where I decided I had nothing left to live for was my restart button. For my friend, it was the point where he finally escaped his pain. The family and friends who are left behind are now bearing his pain, and in many ways, this seems unfair. Suicide is a very selfish act, because it leaves an imprint so strong that the people who bear it, are often unable to move past it. It shapes their lives in ways which creates a self destructive pattern of guilt and fear. When decisions are made in this space, they are following a path of destruction and self punishment.
