Tormented by our Futures (Part 1)

I find it strange how life moves on. It doesn't stop for anyone. The trees keep growing, the birds keep singing, and the rain continues to fall. Doors open and close, and windows do the same. Wheels keep turning. The sun rises each morning and sets every evening, with the moon following closely behind. Earth continues to spin. And people just keep moving. People die all the time, and almost nobody stops. Nobody cares because they've all got things to do.

It's those who have suffered greatly around death that don't know what to do after. They sit and wonder and wait. Wait for anything. A bus. A letter. A Sign. For the dream to end. For it all to be over. Sometimes, when people have been through something traumatic and have watched people die, they end up suffering from something called survivor's guilt.

Guilt is a human emotion, a feeling that tells you that you are responsible for something, and you end up blaming yourself for the things that have happened. It's one of many of those complex feelings that are stuffed in our brains. So, at least I still know I'm human, right? Survivor's guilt is slightly different. It's a guilt that you shouldn't be guilty of. One you know for sure isn't your fault. And yet you end up blaming yourself anyway. You end up blaming yourself for everyone else's death. You blame yourself for the event. And you feel guilty for surviving. It feels wrong to keep living. It should have been you laying on those stretchers, all bloody and bruised. Completely lifeless. Not them. Never them.

Some have it worse off than others. Those who don't have it as bad struggle to cope with those who have it worse. They don't know what to do, think, or say. They don't know if they should comfort them or not. If they should walk away. And so they tell them that it's all going to be ok. They also end up completely ignoring their own feelings, too busy babying others. Those are the ones that crumble suddenly. They fall apart at the most random times and spiral from there. It's all that bottling that causes them to pop because they're too busy trying to stay strong for others.

Those who have it worse end up pretending to be ok because they don't want others to worry. They feel as though they should suffer alone and not burden anyone. They crumble in silence away from preying eyes. Some end up becoming completely lifeless afterwards. To the point where there isn't much difference between life and death. They sit on that thin line between life and death -because they are too tired to stand- and hope that a strong wind blows them one way or another. They spiral out of control very early. And it takes a lot to get back on track.

Everyone tries to keep themselves busy at the start. Try to take their mind off it all. Until they either burn up and lash out, almost drinking or drugging themselves to death. A steady hand can get them back up, though they will be doing it a lot as these people relapse over and over again. Or they shut down and slow to an almost complete stop. They stop doing and sit in silence, trying to feel something, anything. Getting them back up onto their feet is harder because nearly all emotion has drained from their bodies.

There are very few people who do neither and continue to work and move and carry on. These people do not talk about what happened and work and work and work without stopping. Their bodies end up like machines and continue to run like normal. These people are the last to crumble. It'll take one set of hands to hold them back from whatever it is they're doing and tell them that they should mourn properly for them to finally break down and grieve.

You get angry grievers and sad grievers. Grievers who go out and party almost every night and drink until they are numb. Grievers who change everything around them. Grievers who don't want to change at all. You get people who suffer from flashbacks and nightmares. People who no longer wish to be touched and people who want to be held all the time.

And then you get the crazy ones. The ones who break down at first but come face to face with death again and thrive on the rush, on the adrenaline. These people don't know it yet, but they crave the feeling, like a drug. It's a high they begin not being able to live without. Sometimes, it can be because they've faced it so much that they need it to feel something again, and sometimes, it's a new feeling that starts becoming an addiction.