This is the untitled life, the kind of story with an ambiguous beginning and a dubious ending.
They say that life is a blessing, a gift bestowed to the individual, but I pose the question, the rebuttal… Can a blessing or gift be considered as one if the receiver had never wanted it? What is being kind? Considerate? Where do we come up with the notion that life, no matter what it is, is one given and received with happiness?
I used to be suicidal- thoughts and actions spoke a lot to me. I wanted to be free of everything, the emotions, the responsibilities I was never taught to handle, and the adulthood that was forced upon me all the while wanting my childhood returned to me in the form that it should have been. There were things, so many, that held me down, unable to move. I suppose I was crippled by the weight of life itself. And I hated it all. I had a lot of regrets.
To be born with an untitled life.
I was aware and already analytic at the early age of about four. One of my earliest memories is of my brother at the age of months, maybe one. We are about two years apart. I have the uncanny ability to remember memories and never forget them depending on their emotional impact. Possibly, it’s not so uncanny. However, I do think it is uncommon. The persistent and nagging inability to forget lingers.
So, I pose the question, yet again. Are all lives a gift? Or should we consider, should we acknowledge, that there is life out there that is more a burden than any other imposed gift?
Additionally, what is kindness? What is true kindness? Is it not taking the other person or individual or party into consideration? Should we not consider their feelings, their thoughts, and their wants? What is life but another responsibility not everyone asked for?
I don’t contemplate my remaining days, however long that should be. I used to. It used to plague me every day when I cared so much that it hurt to breathe.
I am disconnected now, practically void of attachments. But some days, I can feel. It makes me wonder, what is the point of this untitled life? Where do I plan to go? What do I want to accomplish? Why? Then I sigh because I don’t have the answer. I cannot find the answer, though desperate of it I am.
For all these reasons, I continue to walk along aimlessly along the unpaved path I’ve chosen and my life remains untitled.