Murderer

How many times have you killed yourself so far? Do you still keep count?

I, for one, have died so many times I wonder how I’m still alive. Every single day bits and pieces of us are fading away, leaving our hearts emptier and emptier. Memories, feelings, words and actions too. They are all escaping our grasps crippling our souls until one day when all that’s left is our body. But what good is a body without a soul, what good is a body without a heart? Struggling, lying to ourselves, being contempt with how things are going and not noticing how our worlds turn from colorful to black and white.

I am alive now but I know the me from a few years ago is long dead. I sometimes think about him and remember his bad parts but intentionally leave out the good ones. After all, I need to remind myself I had reasons to kill him, I don’t want to get struck down by guilt. And I’m telling myself, convincing myself, that I can still live without him, without a piece of me, without a part of my soul.

Change is natural and change is all around us. But changing ourselves means killing ourselves. At one point the you that you are trying to change now was… well… it was you. You are killing yourself so you can be happy, so you can be reborn as a new you. A new you which eventually you will start hating and will kill him too.

We are all murderers and the worst part is that we don’t even realize or care. We embrace every kill we make and we’re proud of it. We’re proud of killing versions of us we (or others) don’t like. And for really stupid reasons too.

But even knowing this changes nothing. I have killed myself many times and I will probably do so in the future. And I will always manage to think of a reason and I will always manage to convince myself I am right.

I am a murderer. Are you one too?

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