Deathly Smile
Admitting my relief
My carelessness is frightening. Living doesn’t satisfy me enough, and dying doesn’t scare me like it used to. Leaving the world would bring me closure because I’d know I gave the experience all I got. I could imagine myself in my death bed smiling.
Owning a house couldn’t represent my success and I wouldn’t use my property to brag. If a window breaks, I wouldn’t have to fix it. When the grass gets high, I wouldn’t have to pull out a lawnmower. During heavy rainstorms, I wouldn’t have to ponder the thought of my basement flooding. Putting together decorations and making different rooms look lively wouldn’t jumble my mind. The process of maintaining a home wouldn’t increase my stress.
Obtaining material things wouldn’t be important. Technology would be irrelevant. A smartphone couldn’t dictate my conveniences. Jewelry wouldn’t symbolize how significant a person is and gather attention. A fancy wedding ring couldn’t solidify love. Cars wouldn’t correlate with my life’s trajectory. Walking on the street after work during a winter day or blazing summer afternoon wouldn’t make me feel powerless.
My financial situation wouldn’t determine my circumstances. Money couldn’t dictate the amount of food I eat. I wouldn’t have to worry about staying on top of my bills and paying taxes. Having enough money leftover to stash in a savings and retirement account couldn’t be such a constant priority. Adapting to inflation and surviving on an edgy economy wouldn’t be a continuous struggle. A credit score wouldn’t exist to diminish my opportunities.
There wouldn’t be a reason to wake up in the morning with a drained body. I wouldn’t battle my excuses to skip work and sleep until the sun starts to fade. Keeping up with my hygiene shouldn’t matter. Impressing strangers with nice clothes wouldn’t be substantial. Appearing to be a professional would be useless. People could avoid dealing with my fake personality. I wouldn’t have to pretend to be a friendly person.
The thought of having kids wouldn’t be possible. To think, my purpose is to reproduce. What if I don’t? Am I a failure? That pressure would evaporate. I could think about myself and find rest by knowing that nobody could judge me for not starting a family.
There would be no crying babies I would attend to. No late-night disruptions. I would have less responsibilities. I wouldn’t think about going to the grocery store and buying baby food and diapers. Planning the future of my kids wouldn’t be a main task. I could avoid thinking about all the things that may go wrong in a child’s path. Meanwhile, I would feel fulfilled knowing that prayers aren’t needed to make sure their lives are headed in the right direction.
Dating and meeting someone to have a kid with wouldn’t be such a hard barrier to overcome. There are no dating apps I’d have to use. I wouldn’t look at my smartphone for hours soullessly swiping through random women. The need to approach women and get to know them wouldn’t be such an intriguing challenge. Getting phone numbers to get zero responses wouldn’t be such a regular occurrence. Rejection couldn’t become a pattern.
I wouldn’t have to determine my preferences. Fatal flaws in a woman wouldn’t be such a detriment. Considering a woman’s attitude, health, habits, and hobbies couldn’t find a home in my mind. Sexual compatibility wouldn’t be a factor. A woman’s physical attractiveness couldn’t overpower me.
I wouldn’t stay up wondering if I am the problem. Nights of reflection and self-care to heal open wounds wouldn’t be recurrent. Nobody could tell me to work on my confidence. I wouldn’t have days where I question my manhood. An urge to compete with other men wouldn’t manifest.
My appearance could qualify as handsome. Even with a crooked jaw, I could smile with pride. The yellow stains on my teeth wouldn’t make me look unhealthy. The chapped lips I have during the winters can make my lips bleed and I’d be okay with it. The man boobs I have wouldn’t be noticeable. My uneven shoulders wouldn’t bother me. The thinning hair on my head wouldn’t make me believe I’m extremely unlucky.
Going to events and having fun doesn’t matter when your spirit isn’t alive. I wouldn’t hear the devil’s music blasting in my ears and the lyrics repeating in my thoughts. Pleasure wouldn’t be the appealing and indigestible aftertaste of provocative hecticness. In another light, conversations wouldn’t be bland and forced. My movements among strangers couldn’t indicate an intrusion of their space. I wouldn’t have guilt riddling my perception when I choose to disappear or not show up.
Corruption wouldn’t hold an influence on the way I act and how I fit in with society. The invitations to drink alcohol or smoke couldn’t feel normal. It wouldn’t be an alluring temptation and fantasy that dangles over my head. Shady businesspeople couldn’t cement a controlling position. They wouldn’t appear like saints. Politics wouldn’t be such a slow venture towards progressiveness.
The friendships and associations I have wouldn’t worry me. Keeping communication with my people wouldn’t be a concern. Trusting their discernment wouldn’t cross my mind. Deciphering if their compliments are genuine wouldn’t feel like propaganda. Finding topics to discuss with them wouldn’t make my nerves flare. Removing my traumas and ideals from situations wouldn’t be disgruntling.
My parents could avoid thinking about my well-being and enjoy their peace. No more wondering about where I am when I’m not at home. No more cooking food to make my belly bigger than what it already is. No more buying unnecessary gifts to make me feel happy. No more constant reminders and advice to keep me out of trouble. No more protecting and coddling.
I may not even connect with my family beyond this life. The death of my parents could start an irrevocable journey. A future that’s dreary and looks and feels like the opposite of heaven. I see myself sitting on the edge of a snowy mountain with a dog by my side and a cigar in my hand. The dog could try to lick my freezing face and I would shove it away. The affection would bother me. For the moment, all I’d want is companionship to feel less alone.
Mental freedom is the ultimate reward. It leaves you in a secluded space surrounded by silence. A place with no structure and expectations. Boundless.
