Death sometimes feels like such a hopeful course of action.
I tell myself it's the imbalance in dopamine and seratonin in my brain that gives me that perspective. But it feels so real. And I ask myself, how is this less real than the feelings of hope with which I am filled at other times.
In the end, we all end up dead. Tonight I would like to take the shortcut.
Later: I wrote this 9 days ago. 23:20. It was a bad night. That’s how I know I am not better. Depression and hopelessness can swoosh right in. One more second on earth can feel untenable. Happily, I have been in a better space since. Spring is in the air. New beginnings. New chances to make it through. More opportunities to look up at the sky, as a place of hope, rather than as my final resting place. Am I arrogant to assume I will go to heaven?