Note to Self

You won’t mysteriously wake up one morning cured from a mental illness, it doesn’t work that way. Life is a battle. Every single day for the remainder of your life is going to be a battle, a fight not only against yourself but also the remainder of society.

But you have to treasure and appreciate the little things about life and savor them, separate yourself from the consensus and reinvent yourself in alignment to your heart’s desire and the will of your soul.

You are here, you are alive, you are breathing. Feel the oxygen rejuvenate your lungs. Feel the sunshine radiating warmth upon your skin. This is it. There is no supreme epiphany awaiting realisation. There is no masqueraded savior coming to rescue you from the despair that swallows you alive. 

If you feel like you’re wandering around this planet aimlessly, then it is your mission to create meaning in the meaningless, vacant void of the abyss. Discover your passion and pursue it relentlessly. Why are we enslaved upon this prison planet? It seems utterly meaningless, I know. I fucking get it. Life is a cruel joke. People are stupid and callous. The system is so fucking wrong, and mental illness is often a byproduct of a sick and twisted society. Suicide seems like the logical solution, but it isn’t. 

You have two choices, one is to take the easy way out and sit around locked up in your room, consumed by apathy as you experience your life vicariously through a t.v/computer screen/media. This is what they want. This turns you into a mindless consumer.

The second is to find your will for being here and use your negative experiences, your pain, your discomfort and your suffering to empower you to actually change the world and make your voice heard. Channel your agony into something constructive. Promote change. Melancholy is your inner voice telling you that something isn’t right in your life, something is pestering your unconscious and something needs to be addressed and dealt with, something needs to change. So fucking listen.

So reflect. Be introspective. Exercise that little organ between your ears. Write. Contemplate reality. Pose questions to the universe. Look up at the sky. Go and lose yourself in the depths of a forest. Stand on the beach listening to the waves crash until time becomes irrelevant. Write. Listen to music. Create music. Paint. Run until you collapse. Create. Fucking find yourself, create yourself. 

I destroyed myself with drugs and self destruction because I was disfigured by the trauma I have endured throughout my life. I lost everything, including my will to live and my ambition. I wandered aimlessly devoid of purpose. Longing for death to swallow me and annihilate my being. I begged and prayed for death to eat me up, but after hours and hours spent tumbling through the depths of the abyss drowning in my despair, I finally realised I was god, and life was only going to be what I created it to be. 

‘Every man and woman is a star’ - Crowley. 

Nothing is going to change if we all just sit here being obedient little consumers watching the powers that be dictate and destroy our lives. They thrive upon your passivity; they thrive upon your inaction.

What are you good at? What are your passions? What fuels your fire? What drives you?

Make a creation from your pain and find meaning in the midst of the suffering.