It’s 6am. My eyes are tired it begs to bid goodbye to a curse named consciousness. Maybe, this is what Jimmy Edwards, a character from One Tree Hill TV series that i watched again, would like to escape from. He killed himself and freed him from the ghost that haunts him in his waking hours: his negligible significance. His consciousness, in return, cursed him to remain unknown and unnamed.
He committed suicide because he’s tired if being invisible. Tired of being left behind and neglected by his friends. Tired of being spit on and bullied. Tired of being ignored and never heard.
Worse, with all these misgivings, his father tagged him a Loser and left him and his mom for good. Adding more insult to injury. With this, he suffered alone with no one even recognized his absence.
And snap. Reality bites, big time! Realizing that no one can save him from this futility but himself, he planned his revenge. The school’s time capsule project served as his vendetta. In the project, they have to video record their present musings and how they see themselves 50 years from now. With so much hatred, he assassinated each and everyone in his school mumbling words he cannot even dare to say in their faces. And this was a kid who used to have so much love he couldn’t even hurt his asshole dad, bear his mom’s suffering, cared less for his friends not to spoil their fun by not dragging them to his misery.
But it’s quicksand. The more he saved himself from pain, the more he got buried. Until no air circulated in his brain and became numb. Bang. The trigger was pulled. Not anymore pointing to others but to his skull.
What’s so tragic about this episode is that he’s just a kid. He is supposed to have fun. To experience and learn from life’s good and bad. And if things get really bad, they, all of them, are supposed to go through this no matter what. I always believed in second chances. We all do. That’s why we created life after death. That’s another story. But life should be with memory intact and faculties functioning to serve its purpose.
It’s futile to point fingers and blame everyone for the pain. We are all victims. And if others became master and be able to get through this suffering, why can’t we? We breath the same oxygen, shit with our assholes, digest with the same saliva. We get hurt, laugh, cry, kiss ass, bad mouth just like any humans. We have the same brain that enable us to do all of these tricks.
In the end, it’s a character building episode that teaches us strength in character is not measured by how popular can we get. Or smart, beautiful, and sexy can we be. Or how much we are envied for those advances. It is about how much courage we gained from life’s misgivings and be able to get through this with no bullet in our heads, stab on our hearts, or muriatic acid in our blood stream.
Because there’s hope called second chances. We cannot imagine if we are dead. Existence is good. And, sometimes, it’s also good to kiss or kick some stupid ass. Just kick, no violation. By that I mean, trying to eliminate its existence. Even if it’s all filled with synthetic happiness
It’s 6am. I just need a rest. There’s always a star in the darkest of night. It always brings me home. Tomorrow, I’ll deal with everything when I get there.
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