Bedside Thoughts
1am
It’s nighttime. The lights are off. The air is still. And it’s quiet. Almost...too quiet.
I know I should be sleeping right now. Just like everyone else around me is. But I can’t. It’s just...so hard to. And I’m not sure I even want to, anyway.
I look over at my desk. There’s still so much I need to do. So much stuff that may or may not be due tomorrow — I’ve lost track. But I can’t care less. Every bone and muscle in my body feels so lethargic. Even though they’re all hardwired to the neurons in my brain, they still feel so stiff, so hard to control...
I look out at the sky, into the darkness. It’s the way it’s always been. Dark. Dreary. Depressing. No stars to be seen, no planets to illuminate the sky, no hope to be had.
But there are streetlights. There is still light. So there must be hope to be had. Right?
...
No. Streetlamps aren’t a source of hope. In fact, they’re anything but. People removing the stars from the night sky, ridding the world of those last ounces of hope that they so desperately need, only to replace it with an illusion of hope.
And even that illusion of hope isn’t mine to be had. It’s a narrative that people are trying so hard to force onto me. It’s a false hope that people are trying to convince me actually exists and isn’t just a pathetic imitation of the things they took away from me.
But I know better. I know what’s happening to me. I know what they’re trying to do.
...
And there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?
I know what they’re trying to do to me. They’re trying to change me. They’re trying to turn me into another ordinary product of the education system. I know that all too well. But there’s no way for me to escape. There’s no way for me to break free of the strings that are tied to me, used to control me.
And yet...I’m not satisfied with that.
I want to be myself. I want to be who I decide to be.
I want to be free to choose who I want to be. And I want to be me. Nothing else.
2am
I’ve always wished I could be omniscient. You know, all-seeing. I wished I could have the ability to hear every little thing going on in people’s minds. Maybe that way I can explain why everyone seems to be staring at me. Maybe that way I will know all the horrible things people say about me behind my back.
Every time I walk through a corridor, there’s something about the atmosphere that makes my hair stand on end. It sets me off, keeping me on high alert, forcing me to watch my tail.
With everything I do, with every step I take, there’s this lingering feeling within me, that feeling of being watched, that feeling that all eyes are on me, judging me for every little mistake, actively trying to find things about me to criticise.
I wish I could control it. I wish it was never a thing. But I can’t. It’s so spontaneous, and it’s happened so often that it has become a habit now.
I can’t remember the last time someone walked up to me and said they wanted to study with me, or work with me for a group project. I can’t remember the last time an adult walked up to me and told me "Good job!" or anything to affirm me that I was at least somewhat on the right track.
Even a little "hi" in the hallway would be nice.
...
...
...
Maybe it’s a mind game. Maybe it’s a way for them to control me. They won’t say anything to me because...
...
Call me sensitive. Call me crazy. Call me irrational. Call me whatever you want, all you want. As you’ve probably already done. But it doesn’t change the fact that these are my thoughts. And yet I can’t control them. I can’t quash them. I can’t quell them. I can’t stop them.
I wish I could just tell my mind to make it stop. To make everything stop.
...
Maybe it would be better if everything just came to a stop every once in a while. If life was able to just come to a stop, just like that...
Maybe I’m only dreaming. Maybe it’s just a fantasy that will never come true. But dreams are still nice to think about, aren’t they? Your hopes and dreams, all packaged into a series of thoughts and emotions that only the brain knows how to process.
2:30am
Do you know what it feels like to do well in school?
And do you know what it feels like to gain the attention of teachers and students all around you?
It might sound nice at first. And to be honest, it did sound good at first. But one thing leads to another. As it always does. Isn’t it what got me here? One thing after another?
I tried to put in my all, to ensure I wouldn’t let everyone around me down. I spent a lot of time studying, to the point where I started neglecting everything else around me. I stopped talking to my friends — not that I had a lot of them to begin with. I started skipping mealtimes, just so that I could squeeze in a few more minutes of studying. I even sacrificed on sleep, burning the midnight oil for days on end, just to ensure that I could do my absolute best.
And what did I reap? Nothing. Just a slightly better score that wouldn’t have made a difference in my final grade.
Maybe it was unrealistic to expect so much. Maybe it was unhealthy to set my expectations so high. But what could I have done? What can I do, now that I’m even further down this hole that I dug for myself?
...
I don’t why I even try anymore. Why don’t I just...stop trying? Why don’t I just stop trying in everything that I do?
3am
Think about it. It’s three hours before you’re supposed to wake up. Three hours before your alarm goes off and you need to get ready for school.
That’s me.
...
What am I doing right now? Honestly. I feel like I should be doing something right now, instead of just sitting here, lying in bed.
...
Actually, maybe that’s what I’m supposed to do. I’ve got so much work piling up at my desk that may or may not be due tomorrow. So much that I’ve lost count. Too much for me to care about anymore. Until now, that is. Since I have time to kill right now, why the hell not?
...
I get up and walk over to my desk. I grab a random paper from the huge stack of worksheets piling up at my desk. And then I get to work.
My mind feels so...cloudy. So...weird. I can’t think straight. It’s so hard to concentrate. It seems that no matter how hard I try to focus on this, my train of thought gets cut off, being replaced with other thoughts. The thoughts that I can probably do well not to think about right now.
I start to wonder if doing homework at three o’clock was really such a good idea after all. Especially when my mind is at its most active.
...
Have you ever had days that just seemed...overbearing? Insurmountable? Days where all you can do is try to make it through? Days where staying alive feels all but impossible, where all you want to do is to go back home, flop onto your bed, and doze off?
Well, I’ve had those days. I’ve been having them almost every day for as long as I can remember.
I’ve had days where there’s a class and the voices just...fades away, blending into the static and buzz of the background. I’ve had days where the homework just feels like it’s piling up, to the point where it becomes too much for me to handle. I’ve had days where I finish my homework and I look out the window, only to see it’s already dark outside.
I can’t help feeling that, day by day, my life is just passing me by. I’m trapped in this cycle of life, struggling, barely breathing, clutching at straws, just watching everything fly by so quickly, and yet there’s nothing I can do to help myself. Life just...goes on, and I’m just swept up with the tide, whether I like it or not.
...
What part of this life can I even call "mine" anymore? What makes this life of mine "my life" and not just "a life"? What is it, really, that makes me anything more than a tiny, little, insignificant being in this vast expanse we call the universe?
3:30am
What is the concept of infinity?
What is it about this...idea of limitlessness, of endlessness? What is it about the concept of something that repeats endlessly, that loops forever, that just...never ends?
Is it just this...weird, somehow gratifying source of hope, a way for people to convince themselves not to lose hope, to dream of better days, to lie to themselves that this world is not as bad as it seems, to yearn for a future that will never be?
I wish I could still do that. I wish I could still live in a blissful ignorance, unaware of the larger world around me, not knowing about just how harsh and hostile the world around me really is. I wish I was still able to convince myself that there were an infinite number of ways my life could go. That I could be anything I wanted, so long as I just...tried.
But now? I’ve stopped trying. I’ve given up trying. Because it’s no use trying anymore. So why even bother? It just seems like there are just so many things where no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, everything just stays the same.
Nothing matters anymore. I’ve given up trying to care about anything anymore. All I’m trying to do now is to just keep surviving.
...
Sometimes I think about the infinite universe. And I wonder what life is like on those other planets. Could there be extraterrestrial life on other planets? Could there be live, sentient beings in faraway places in faraway lands? What kind of lives do they lead? Could they be better than the life I’m currently living?
I wish I had the answers to any of these questions. Maybe it would make it easier for me to decide if I really do want to keep on trying to survive in this god-forsaken world.
...
Maybe there’s an alternate universe where this life of mine could have worked out the way I wanted it to. Maybe I can still make it work. But is it really the best thing for me? Is it really what I want?
And what if things don’t work out? What if something happens that causes my life to go so catastrophically wrong? What will I do then?
It’s a lot to think about. Almost...too much.
4am
Have you ever had times where you’ve had burning thoughts in your head, but you just can’t find the words to string these thoughts into full-blown sentences? Have you had times where there’s something you really wanted to say, but you just...couldn’t say it?
I have those all the time. Some days more than others.
...
Isn’t it strange, how the human mind is capable of picturing more things than can be truly, properly, accurately conveyed through the English language? Isn’t it just...annoying, how even when the mind is capable of so much, it is still restricted by the lexicon, by the vocabulary, by the language that it needs in order to do that very thinking in the first place?
Isn’t it ironic, how language is inadequate for conveying thoughts, when that’s what language was made for in the first place?
...
I wish I weren’t limited by the language that permits me to speak. I wish I weren’t limited by the language that provides me the words to speak. I wish my train of thought could be independent from my vocabulary. I wish I could think and convey whatever I wanted, without being limited to the language that is meant to let me speak and not to think.
I want to be free from the inadequacy of words, the inability of language to convey my thoughts. I want to be free from the confines of this world of mine.
I want to be bound no longer by the gravity that binds me to the ground. I want to be bound no longer by the limitations of this world that prevent me from speaking my mind, from saying what I really want to say, from doing what I really want to do.
I want to be free.
4:15am
When your mind is overwhelmed with thoughts, how do you cope with them? How do you handle them? How do you manage so effortlessly to push it all to the back of your mind?
No, seriously. I really do want to know.
I wish I had a way to control all the thoughts in my mind. I wish my thoughts, my feelings, my emotions, were all mine to decide. But alas, they aren’t. They’re things that sometimes can be way out of human control. I can’t just...choose to be happy, or to be sad, or to be anything, really. It just...happens. It just comes along and hits you. And there’s nothing you can say or do to make it all go away.
And that’s just sad. That’s just pathetic. Isn’t it? It’s your body, your mind, your life, and yet you can’t choose the things you want to do with it.
...
So, how do people handle those feelings?
Or do people just choose to hide from them? Do people just choose not to deal with them at all? Do people just keep their feelings bottled up inside? Like I do, because I can’t trust anyone at all with my feelings?
I could try writing. I have tried it before, as a matter of fact. But I just can’t get over this strange feeling that whatever I write is not safe, that at any moment, someone can and will find my deepest, darkest secrets, and just like that, my vulnerabilities will be exposed for everyone to laugh at and make a mockery out of. And I don’t have time for it. I’ve got enough things to worry about already.
I could go outside. I could take a walk. But for some reason I can’t explain, even though is so full of life, so full of vibrancy, there’s something about it all that looks...so...dull. Colourless. Bland. The grass looks so...defeated. The trees look sad and pitiful. The daytime sky feels so barren, so lifeless, so devoid of any kind of activity.
And furthermore, I’m barely hanging on as things are right now. I’ve got so much homework to do, yet so little time to do it. The last thing I need is to add to my troubles.
...
Maybe it all comes back to the fact that I’m drowning ten feet under in a pool of my own troubles. I’m trapped in a rut that I can’t get out of.
What am I supposed to do now? What can I even do now?
...
What is there even left to do now? There’s nowhere to hide. There’s no way to fight. I’ve tried fighting. It’s not possible. And frankly...it’s not worth it. I’ve got no fight left in me.
4:40am
Swathes of loud voices all rush to cloud my head in what I can only describe as a frenzy. They’re all trying to shout at me, trying to tell me the obvious. They think they’re trying to help me, but they don’t know better.
Why don’t I seek help? Why do I still choose to live this pathetic life of mine the way I do, instead of trying to do something to help myself out of it? Why don’t I "approach someone", as they say?
Well, it’s very simple, really. Who is there to ask? Exactly. No one.
Who will even take me seriously? Who will even listen to me?
No one noticed that I wasn’t at my best, or that I haven’t been for a while now. After all, people just love to neglect their surroundings. don’t they? It doesn’t seem like they bothered to look, after all.
Who will be there, then, to listen to me ramble on and on about all the things going on in my life? Who will take me seriously? And, more importantly, will anyone actually be there to help me with the things I need help with?
...
Who will even understand? When I walk through the school hallways, even though there are so many people around me, I still feel so...alone. As if I’m the only one who properly understands the way I feel. Even now, it feels like I’m talking to an empty void. No one else is there. It’s just me. Alone.
And don’t tell me to "tell a trusted adult". For one, who is there to trust? The fundamental power dynamic that relationships between grown-ups and children is based on is so ridiculously uneven. And they’re from a different time. They try to act like they’re there to help you if need be. But do they understand us? Do they really understand the things we want, the things we seek, the things we desire? No. And furthermore. so many I’ve seen are nothing if not cold and vindictive. In other words, they’re not people I would ever trust with my emotions and feelings.
What if things weren’t like this? What if the world wasn’t like this? What if the world wasn’t this harsh and cruel? What would the world be like then? Would the world be a better place?
And what if I wasn’t like this? What if I wasn’t this apprehensive with talking about the things that I’ve been keeping to myself for a while now? What would I be like then?
Would I be different? Better? Better than this sorry little joke that is me?
5:20am
This world around me is not a nice world, is it? People are cruel and unkind. They’re not at all nice. Everyone is seemingly working together for a common good, but everyone is also working against each other, all in competition with each other, racing neck and neck, in parallel, in this stupid, pathetic, aimless rat race, headed for the same, unrealistic, unreachable finish line.
And this is something I just can’t deal with. Not anymore. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to live in this toxic, hostile environment anymore. I don’t want to endlessly chase down a life I will never live.
I don’t want to live like this anymore.
...
But we still carry on, right? We still carry on living this life that we don’t want to live. Because that’s all we can do...right?
You’re not weak, now, are you? So stop this.
...
...
...
No.
No. Just...no.
That isn’t all we can do. That isn’t the only thing there is to do. Surely there have to be other options. It shouldn’t be that I’m doomed to live in this cursed world even if I don’t want to, just because "life is precious" or "people are the product of God" or any of that nonsense.
Surely there’s a way to escape this mess I’m stuck in. Surely there’s a way out of here.
Yes. I may be weak. I may be flawed in so many ways. I may not be cut out for life in this world. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t care what anyone will think or say about me any longer.
No one will notice. No one except the people that know I exist. And even then, they’ll forget me. They’ll move on. They’re great at forgetting. They’re great at moving on.
There’s nothing left for me. Nothing left for me to do. There’s nothing I want to do here. Nothing. Nothing at all.
So why should I continue trying to survive in this hellhole? Why should I keep subjecting myself to this hell, when there’s another pathway for me to take?
...
I wonder what it would feel like to find yourself in a pool of your own blood. I wonder what it would feel like to be soaked in a pool of your own blood, and to smell it all around you. I wonder what it’s like to just lie there, staring blankly into empty space, motionless, as the life drains out of your body...
I picture myself floating in space. Only, this isn’t the kind of space I’m used to seeing in photographs. It’s the kind that dreams that made of. A sea of midnight blue, with a large crescent moon and bright stars hanging like set pieces upon the sky. An infinite number of planets to visit, an infinite number of worlds to see. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Bliss. Peace. Freedom. Freedom to create. Freedom to imagine. Freedom to do whatever I want, freedom to do what I so please, without being bound to the limits of this world, without the unkindness and cruelty of its people, without the stresses that plague life on Earth.
There’s a better world out there for me. A world I was always meant to be in. A world where I can just...be myself. I don’t have to put on a mask. I don’t have to try and please everyone around me. I can do whatever I like, whenever I want.
I don’t need to stay here. I can leave. Whenever I want.
...
I grab a slip of paper, slightly larger than a cue card. I try to write a note. It’s a bit weird for me to try and transfer all my thoughts to paper (words can only capture a dim monochrome of the complexity of thoughts and emotions, but nothing more), but I persist. People need to at least know why. Why I’m gonna do the things I’m gonna do. This is what I write:
"I’m sorry, everyone. I’m sorry I’m gonna have to make you come to terms with...this. But I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t live And I don’t see any way out. Or any end in sight. This is the only way out for me. And hey, look on the bright side. At least you won’t have to deal with me anymore. You’ll never have to deal with me ever again. And if you ever think of me, just know I’m in a better place now. Just know that I’m sitting somewhere up in the sky, sailing through the air, base jumping between stars and planets."
...
My hand starts to shake as I write that last sentence. And it’s not because it’s getting cold in here. Actually, I don’t know what’s happening right now.
I look over at the penknife, just innocently sitting next to me. The glint of light, which is presumably coming from the moon’s reflection, catches my eye. I stare into it for a while, before trying to reach out for it.
I start having second thoughts.
Why is this happening? Isn’t this what I want? To rid this world of myself? To let myself disappear off the face of the earth for all eternity? Why, then, is this happening to me?
...
I must persevere. I must keep going. I can’t think of anything else now. I shouldn’t. It’s too late for all that now.
I bring the sharp end of the blade up to my neck. And I break out into a cold sweat. Is this really what I want for myself? Is this really the best thing for me to do?
I try to reconcile with these strange thoughts in my head. Why are you asking if this is the right thing for me to do? Of course it is! Why wouldn’t it be. There’s nothing left to live for, and everything’s only going to get worse if I keep going, so what’s wrong with trying to end it all right here, right now?
I want to drive the blade across the width of my neck. But it’s at this moment that my muscles seem to tense up. I can’t move my arm. It’s stuck. I’m trying so hard to, but it just... refuses to budge.
Come on. You’re so close. You’re just one move away from death. From freedom. Just...push...through. Don’t give up now.
...
...huff, puff...
...
...Why is it so hard to move my arm?
...
...huff, puff...
...
...
...
I can’t. I can’t do it. I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t describe it. But I just...can’t. It’s just...so hard to.
Self-preservation is overrated. It’s the only reason I’m still here. It’s the only reason why I’m still alive, why I’m not already dead.
...
I look over at the clock next to my bed. 5:50am.
As the clock ticks, my mind drifts off into other things. I start thinking of the infinite universe, wondering how much better life would be in another world, on another planet, in another universe. Chances are, I’ll find a life for me that’s better than whatever life I do even have here on Earth.
...
And before I know it, it’s 6am. My alarm starts ringing, even though it doesn’t need to, since I’m already awake.
I guess I’ve got to get ready for school now.
...
I don’t know how long I have left to live for. I don’t how much more I can take. But if my life keeps going on the way it does, that day may not be very far away.
I look at my goodbye note for a bit. I keep it away for safekeeping. You know, for when I do need to use it eventually. And then I sit down and write a different one.
I don’t remember much of what I write for this one. It’s mostly just me going talking about everything that’s been going on in my life. But is one sentence that does stick out to me. And even after I shelve that note away, it’s still stuck in my mind.
"Suicide is always an option. Don’t let anyone say otherwise. It all comes down to whether it’s an option you want to take."