Book - I The Desire

Title: Embracing the Inevitable

Death, a topic delicate for some, shrouded in desires and fears. It stands as the great equalizer, impartial to wealth, appearance, or gender. Above all, it is an inescapable truth.

I close my eyes, resisting the allure of death. Reflecting upon my life, I withhold any definitive judgment, neither categorizing it as solely good nor bad. The timing of its conclusion, whether now or later, holds little significance; my yearning is simply for release. This existence, often likened to a prison, adorned with the grandiose name of Life, feels constricting. I long to break free, for life's kindness has been scarce, and the heavens, unjust.

Despite my desperate efforts to cling on, I find my struggles in vain.

A heavy sigh escapes, laden with despondency.

It is widely believed that as consciousness fades or death looms near, the soul departs the mortal vessel, abandoning its ephemeral shell. Memories surge forth like a seven-minute reel, playing out as a short film, recounting past experiences. It may unfold as a blockbuster, revered worldwide, or a lamentable excuse for an existence.

Can you fathom which category I belong to?

I shall reveal the answer, but not quite yet.

There is a simple reason for this delay: I was born with a frail constitution, haunted by low self-esteem and a fragile will to live. The irony of life, is it not?

Each time I reflect on my past, present, or even the future, an inner voice clamors:

"Pathetic."

"Weak."

"Your existence is an affront."

"Why don't you simply perish?"

Despite these discouraging thoughts, I lacked the strength to commit suicide, for I witnessed my parents toiling ceaselessly, yearning for a brighter future on my behalf. And yet, I am acutely aware that I burden them. Who willingly embraces such a liability?

Thus, I could not act. I could not find a solution, nor unravel the conundrum before me.

And so, I made the choice to surrender to the natural course of events.

I may have attained numerous achievements—underachiever par excellence, an eyesore to others, malnourished, lacking a supportive family background. A conventional life was never within reach.

But I find no solace in these accomplishments.

I questioned and berated myself, and everything around me, especially life itself.

"Why me? Why me?" These thoughts plagued me whenever a needle punctured my skin, whether to draw blood or administer medication.

Sigh.

I may appear as a whiny individual, casting blame upon all and sundry for this perceived unfairness, but it became my feeble excuse, a meager attempt to alleviate my anguish.

Or so I wished to believe.

(Author's note:

Hola amigos! Let me congratulate you on successfully completing the first chapter.

This chapter may be short, and there may be others to follow of similar length, but I implore you to hold on and savor the journey that lies ahead.

Adios, for now.)