The bug of consciousness.

A little bug flew to my bed sheets. It landed near my eye sight. I turned the phone light on, its eyes were shining like cat in the night. I observed its nature for a while... got my hand close to its head and used my finger as projectile. The bug, which was just probably waiting to hunt something in the night, has died of contusion. It twist on the floor for few seconds and then, doesn't move ever again. Suddenly I weep... asking myself, why did I kill it? Why? It wasn't flying around, it didn't disturbed me, it wasn't ugly nor huge. It was just a little bug.

Sometimes I just don't tolerate the fact that nothing lasts forever... that our life has no purpose. That many don't get to understand when I speak from honesty, without darker intentions, and attack me and point me as a fiend. That one night stand don't get me to a love story. That even having privileges, I always lack what I want. Sometimes I really think about what we say to ourselves about suicide, that "is a stupid decision"... stupid, why? What's stupid in dying?. You won't have a future to be worry about, nothing will ever hurt again... there is no consequence on dying. Why is it stupid?.

Sometimes I just don't tolerate the fact that nothing lasts forever. Back in February, when I was about to board a flight to Malaysia from Ecuador, I was told I couldn't leave without a valid visa or a return ticket. I spent the past 5 years entering Malaysia, yet as I wasn't student anymore I did not have the right to go. Nothing planned ahead seems to make sense.

So I moved on with my life, concentrated on my job like never before. I got a new room, the first master room I could ever rent by myself. I moved to Kuala Lumpur, I felt fulfilled, for the first time living not asking my parents a penny... then I'm told I have to leave. Once again, I needed to start from zero. Once again my country wasn't my country, and the country I moved to wouldn't be mine either. My native country is having a war out of polarization, and any opinion I can make from outside seems to be important to anyone.
Last night, after killing the bug I went to sleep and I had a dream from which I just remember the sun was going down on the horizon, gigantic, and Mercury's shadow was visible... I woke up thinking, even in my dreams I'm just human. I can't be in Mercury, I am a human, I can only dream of Mercury from earth. It's fine, I won't kill myself, just the anxiety of not knowing what will happen next keeps me alive, just to know that there are many souls I need to meet again... as Rust Cohle in True Detective says "I woke up every day obviously just because of my programming, and I lack the constitution for suicide". I certainly don't think I'm in a moment of my life in which I can keep underestimating suicide... specially knowing that having a salary don't fix a life, having your own room either, that loving does not mean being loved back, that a sexual experience of a night does not define relationships, that having a job doesn't give you a free ticket to an immigration office and what you build does not stabilize anything in this life. Anything.
My parents are in their 60 and they've started again from zero in a new country. I admire them, I ask myself... how will I survive in here for 60 years... damn, so much time ahead and sometimes I feel this is it.

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