I remember sitting in that room beside a stranger who kept looking around, smiling and laughing, with herself. I was fifteen and didn’t know whether to run, speak or act as if this was an everyday experience for me. My first morning of many in these types of places people go who have trouble controlling their imagination, or their own reality. I was fifteen, attempted suicide and failed, how pathetic I was. It was my first, but not my last. After that stay, life became dull. I had a new perspective. Before that I was always trying to escape myself. After I left I was trying to find myself. My suicide attempts weren’t because I wanted to die, I couldn’t understand this life I was in. I definitely was aware I could die, but at the same time I wasn’t afraid. I was raised in a Christian/Catholic household, mother-Christian, father-Catholic and I also thought about going to hell if I succeeded. Despite the teachings I was raised with, something inside still wasn’t scared, even thinking of the possibility I’d burn for eternity because of what a text says.
Today, at 24, my soul no longer thirsts so much for understanding why I’m in this life. I get it. I’m still curious, and in the mornings chant “Ong Namo Guru Dev Namo” ~ ‘I bow before my highest self’, getting an understanding of today’s purpose, but still go wherever the wind takes me. Time doesn’t exist, only awareness and choices. I only wish that everyone comes to understand this.