Untitled

Some untitled thoughts I wish nobody is going to read.

The death of Anthony Bourdain shocked me. I don’t watch his shows but I know he is this amazing chef with quite a screen time on television.

I feel pity but I don’t appreciate the loss. Until the next morning,when I browse through Reddit, and watch snippets of his show, how people appreciate him, how he appreciated people. He carried love and respect wherever his wenr, and he had gone to places a rich white guy may never have been. He was inspiring.

Then, I cried.

***

I went into my friend’s car and thanking him for picking me up. I was 18 or 19 and college was exciting time. One thing led to another but suddenly what I created an awkward situation. I couldn’t remember why I say what I said, but I remember vividly what I said, nonchalantly, “Hey you guys were never in the situation that you think death is better?”

I remember my two friends who seated at the front look at each other, “Err, no?”

“Really, I thought that’s normal?”

“No it isn’t”.

And we didn’t continue. I was surprised — a muted one... There are many instances I wish it may be better for me to, you know, stop existing because I thought it will unravel all the unnecessary entanglement that I am a part and make everyone else involved better.

Sadly, that’s not normal.

***

That conversation I had actually never stayed with me. It just occurred to me recently as I become more self-aware of this problem. To be honest, I never intend to do myself any harm let alone to put myself to death. The idea of suicide is beyond me and with me being a muslim, I have justification against myself that suicide is never an option.

It’s just sometimes, I wish I were dead.

I changed my job recently and was in adjusting phase. The supposed job was to be “satisfying” as I thought, but the unproductive routine tasks had made me feel “empty”. It may be a burnout. Then it came in the news that Chester Benington killed himself — a voice that had colored my teen years. I started to watch his interviews, his interaction with his family and fans and of course those “recorded memories” do not portray the dark feeling lurking inside his head.

Then, “the feeling” struck me again.

I don’t think these instances are suicide contagion, but it ignited the passive suicidal ideation. It’s just I feel like, I will be grateful if I suffer from a terminal disease, with my counted days. Or maybe, I get rammed in by a car. There was once in my red-eye flight from Narita, the flight went into turbulence. I closed my eyes and tried to get myself to sleep — at least, I am dead, it would be in my sleep? I am not sure.

Yes. I am not sure. Was it pity? A sign that I have great empathy towards the plight of other? It maybe — but why do I have to drag myself into the equation?

I don’t know. I am not sure.