Laughing at Despair

There was never anything to do. Boredom endlessly communicated this fact to me. I had become an endless sea of worthless thought incapable of action. I forgot about the possibilities which exist beyond prediction. All I could predict was the apocalypse. Not necessarily the end of the world, but certainly the end of my personal universe. A lot of people seemed to operate effectively in this reality, but I was sure it had to do with some kind of brainwash. Was I the last to not be brainwashed? Or was I insane? Was I free or was I trapped? I knew what was beautiful and what wasn't but I couldn't feel it. Everyone seemed to have something to blame for the rotten things they felt. I knew the only thing to blame was myself. Other's would come up with excuses for me, but I didn't believe it. I had come to the conclusion that life was entirely a matter of perception and that good and bad, as much as cause and effect were out the window. There were times in my life where I had believed in magic. I was in touch with purpose. I knew compassion. If I was friendly, loving, and caring I knew that the powers that be would protect me. I used to know what it felt like to feel hugged by the universe. All the hatred in the world didn't phase me. That was before I became all the hatred in the universe. Actually, what I felt was far worse than hatred. I had not only lost the ability to feel goodness, but I had lost all touch with the emotions that make a human being feel alive.

When I was a kid I did nothing right. I could not conform, or pass classes. I did nothing for no-one, and the only way I was able to entertain myself was through sex and drugs. I was doing "bad" things and bad things were happening. I believed in cause and effect then. I had my fair share of life extracting sexual experiences before I turned twelve years old. I was nearly beat to death on multiple occasions where quite honestly I deserved it. I tormented people and was delivered the appropriate consequence.

At some point I had a revelation that if I participated in good behaviors, good things would start happening. I started going to the gym, meditating, surrounding myself with kind and caring people. I went to college. I got a job. I felt like I had transformed into somewhat of an angel.

Part of my new angelic routine was taking yoga classes. On Monday mornings at 10am I always went to this wonderful vinyasa class by the beach. I always left this class feeling fully present and capable of having an awarding day. That was until three years ago on a day I will never forget. On this day, rape and yoga decidedly mixed.

I had recently decided to restore my faith in the opposite sex after a childhood of sexual abuse, and unfortunate relationships. I joined a dating app and was certain I would find a healthy mate. I knew I was in a good place, so I would attract someone similar. I had gone on a few dates with a man named Eric, before he started showing signs of jealousy. I called him following my Monday yoga session to inform him I didn't want to see him anymore. He asked if it was possible to come to my apartment and speak in person. I wanted to give him a chance, so I said yes. When he came over I told him I wasn't comfortable with the jealousy he had previously demonstrated. I told him I needed to feel free in a relationship. I thought I would be understood. and I was wrong. At this point Eric started screaming "You're a whore, you're just like all the rest, you want to fuck me." He backed me into a corner demanding I take my clothes off and remove my tampon. I kept apologizing. I even asked if he needed a hug. I didn't feel angry. I felt sorry.

What's ironic was how compassionate I felt the whole time. Suddenly, my head was forcefully pushed into the ground, I put my hands over my head and tears rolled down my face. I didn't feel bad for myself, I felt bad that any person in this world could be so bad off that they could commit such a tragic act towards another human being. In the middle of feeling my insides rip I started screaming "I'm so sorry you're this hurt!". I looked back and caught a glimpse of my Eric's face, who began to cry and back off. Left on the ground with blood spilling down my thighs, I was still here, but my soul was gone. All belief in cause and effect was gone. You can be as good as you want and bad things still happen. What was the point in anything anymore? Did compassion save me? If I had acted violently or fought back would things be different? The truth is I was always attracted to violent men. Did I manifest this? Was this the world just giving me what I wanted?

Everything was so serious, and everyone else seemed to think it was serious too. Life seemed like some weird despair roller coaster and the only thing I could do was normalize tragedy. I started imagining the world as a massive snake pit, writhing with chaos and irony. I started laughing about it. I imagined life as the greatest comedy of all time. One person proclaiming strong beliefs in one area, and this one in another. Everyone thinking that they are going to be saved, everyone thinking that their ideas are the secret to a great life. "Do these five exercises for ultimate longevity." "Heal your life in these three simple steps." 'Food is the answer." "Religion is the answer." "Therapy is the answer." For me, humor became the answer. If everything's a joke, nothing matters, but at least it's funny. I began to laugh at everything. I knew that nothing I did could prevent bad things from happening but if I was still able to smile it didn't matter.

My entire life was pain. I had no hope. I believed in nothing. Death would one day prove that I was nothing. It didn't matter though because all I once expected from life was now hilarious. Nothing's changed other than the discovery of the fine line between comedy and tragedy.