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Should I Remain
WARNING: THIS STORY INCLUDES REFERENCES TO SUICIDE
These days, whenever I think, talk, or write about anything, in the back of my mind and at the end of every sentence are the words “should I remain.”
The Remain that I refer to is remaining around, as in among the living if you cannot tell by the main photo.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow when everything you had hoped and dreamed of, i.e., having a happy family, falls apart at the seams despite your best intentions and efforts.
I’m a fairly smart guy. I scored damn near the top in several categories earlier this year when I was subjected to a seven-hour critical skills assessment and cognitive ability test by two so-called Brainiac psychiatrists while pursuing what had long been my “dream job.”
I only tout my adaptability and problem-solving prowess as a prelude to writing that I already know what most readers would think or write. It does not mean that I like myself. TBH, I pretty much fucking hate myself.
But if I am so adaptable and have for so long revered my perseverant forefathers and preached as much, why don’t I just suck it up and get over it and try to live out the best life that I can?
