Peace

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“In a world as weird and cruel as this one we have made for ourselves, I figure anybody who can find peace and personal happiness without ripping off somebody else deserves to be left alone. They will not inherit the earth, but then neither will I… And I have learned to live, as it were, with the idea that I will never find peace and happiness, either. But as long as I know there’s a pretty good chance I can get my hands on either one of them every once in a while, I do the best I can between high spots.”

–  Hunter S Thompson

 

A mantra to live by if ever I read one. And, yeah, I read a lot. But I also run amok from time to time in BPD-fuelled periods of terror far from the overarching ethos of the above statement. Peace…. it’s all I dream about.

My Psychologist asked me about peace and happiness once – a prerequisite of the simple gauges for human well-being. I thought about it and got concerned about not offending her, so tried to say the right things in case the hammer dropped, then came to the conclusion that I’ve touched on happiness in spells but peace has always alluded me. I guess it’s hard to feel truly peaceful when you’ve tried to kill yourself…..and failed. It’s a bit like taking a wonky photo, then realising you’ve got the Delirium Tremens in perpetuity. Not that I’ve ever had the Tremens in its truest form, you understand, despite hitting the booze from time to time. You get the point, I hope, even if I don’t.

“My ideals have got me on the run, towards my connections with everyone,” sings Bill Callahan from the Bose speaker on my desk right now. It’s an August evening. The rain has stopped and the air is still. It’s just getting dark. It’s a peaceful time, or would be for anyone who wasn’t feeling full of the same oily bag of emotional rags in their head. People underestimate peace; the feeling of being truly alone and happy with that feeling, or of being with people and feeling an empathetic warmth which covers you better than heroin ever did. Of never being afraid of the next second. Peace is all I want.

I have no reason to be out of bed – I live alone, it’s getting late, I’m out of ideas, and sleep is a relief – but I suppose there must be something driving me out in the ether to type this, try to convey something, or even just take another breath. There will be no self harm tonight despite the urge, and the clock will not tick further toward an end nobody close to me wants to see.. No. It’s not tonight.

Tomorrow I’ll get up, tap at this keyboard, and regret being alive again, while I try to find my own personal high spot to distract me from the truth of it all. I will dodge Bigfoot, the paranoid thoughts, the self loathing, and the confusion. I will pray to something for help, and listen for any answer. I’m not religious, but I’ll hedge my bets with any deity I can put my finger on; never discount the happy smiles on the faces of people with true faith. They may appear dumb, or easily led, but they know a little about tranquility and happiness. For that, they have my respect.

Peace to all of you.

 

 

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