Is it better to speak or to die?
A question that will haunt me for eternity, because no matter what, the outcome of either is unknown, leaving me trapped in the dark of my own fate, and I am afraid of the dark.
To speak. Endless possibilities. One possibility: you decide to finally confess your soul to the world, something you have been longing to do. The thought that you have been sitting on for ages, that every nerve in your body has been screaming to get out, the one that you believed would finally set you free, instead leaves you drowning in a sea full of judgment, embarrassment, and torture. Or you could gamble with another possibility that does set you free; that has the outcome you begged for. You succeed, you rise high above expectation, and you are finally able to breathe.
To die. The inevitable. No matter what religion you are devoted to, what comes after the last breath is uncertain. But to some, that is more comforting than a disapproving society with no refuge. This option is not a selfish way out, but a lasting relief for those who felt there was simply no other way. Even though they will die knowing that they never had the courage to let those liberating words roll off their tongues, they chose to control their fate rather than let it control them.
Depending on who you ask, an optimist or a pessimist, a courageous individual or a sad soul with no fight left to give, you will receive a different answer.
If you asked my younger self who felt the weight on her chest was constantly getting heavier, she would have chosen the inevitable. For years, she was held prisoner by her thoughts; locked away in a prison cell, her cellmate’s misery, despair, and irrationality. And for a long time, the key was lost.
Despite the battle I would never wish upon my worst enemies, a battle between life and death, I have found am now deciding to speak. I have prevailed the question that once forced me to dig my own grave. My purpose is the unknown.
I am no longer afraid of the dark.
