Whatever

Driving around the other day, I hopped on the freeway and just let the road guide me. As I was moving along at a decent pace, I saw an accident occur. I saw one car move over and slam into another at around 70 miles per hour. I dialed 911 from my cell almost as soon as I saw it and was told that the Police and Ambulance were already on their way. This next part is gonna sound really strange and please, trust me on this, I’m ok. As I kept going I couldn’t help well, not wishing, but almost feeling jealous that it wasn’t me that got hit. Not that I want to get hurt or that I have some kind of death wish, I just, I don’t know, I’m just ready.

Those that know me well understand that this is nothing new. I’ve always been quite open on my feelings of life and death. My biggest complaint about dying has never been death itself, it’s the pain involved with it. While driving that day I couldn’t help thinking how misunderstood this feeling of mine is.

I was talking to a friend the other day about it and she thought I should see someone to talk to about it. I told her I was and she said that I should change Therapists because if I was still thinking this way then she wasn’t doing her job. I find this logic ludicrous. I’ve always thought that a Therapists job was to help one understand their feelings and thoughts not change them. I’ve seen numerous Shrinks over the years and have never hidden my thoughts on the subject. Obviously, they’ve never felt I was in any kind of danger or I would have been committed years ago. Again, anyone that knows me understands that I’m in no danger of hurting myself.

It’s almost like wishful thinking. No, that’s not right either. I’ve always used the word ambivalent when talking about the possibility of dying. I guess I can also use the same word for living. I don’t hate life. I don’t love life. It’s just there. I wake up, ok. I go to work, ok. But I’m just as ok with the idea of not doing those things. I know I’ll get notes and comments’ telling me how wonderful life is and, for those that say it, I’m sure it is. But I’ll also get notes from those that tell me they agree with me and that they’ve never wanted to be a part of life. That’s where the misunderstanding comes in. I don’t feel that way. I just feel like I’m ok either way. I don’t hate living yet I also don’t hate the thought of not living. I think it might be the lazy way to look at it. Whatever…