I’m only human. Sometimes, I feel so weary that I just want to drop dead to escape the tiredness that follows me around. I fight tooth and nail every minute of my existence and sometimes I wonder whether it is even worth the struggle. I have fought since I was born and there was always something that nudged me on- there was always something to fight for. I fought to prove my self-worth. I fought to win a smile from the people I love most. I fought to not be trampled by others who fought too. I fought to keep breathing.
Everyone tells me they admire my tenacity, the way I do not let go, but all I see is how I fell. I fell every time I won- winning brought only a momentary sense of pleasure that soon disappeared. I fell every time I lost too, for I felt that even my will could not carry me over the bridge to success.
Life is a race where we stamp others down to come first. We fight and fight for nothing- a stretch of land, a nod of approval, a few notes of cash. We fight for mere nothings. Yet, most of all, we fight for our lives. We would be nothing more than inanimate corpses if we gave up the fight.
We came from the earth and we become it once more. More dirt is sprinkled over us and blocks out the light of day signalling the end of our lives. When I go to a cemetery, all I can think of is how all my struggles might be futile in the end. I think how the place radiates peace from ceasing to live in this chaotic wrestling ground, where both the winner and the loser are badly hurt at the end of the game. All I can think of is how I wish for that end.
I also know that I cannot give up. I have always pushed through what stopped me, even if it was myself. I have always finished the race even if I was too paralysed to move quickly and without pain. I know that if I give up, I really and truly die. Nothing would be able to bring me back again.
As much as it pains me, I know that I will go on breathing. I know I will go on fighting. I will go on living. Until I die.
There is something in this mad confession that I will not deny. There were beautiful moments I lived in the fight. There were moments when my family hugged me in delight in my temporary victories, when I read something that took me to the sky and made me stay there, when I gave a fallen person my hand and they took it to climb up again, when I prayed for help and got in- these moments were what gave me a reason to fight. They were what made the fight worth it in the end. After all, it is not the prize that is more beautiful, it is my mother’s smile when she sees it that is. I have fought for these smiles, these moments. I will fight till my last breath, painful though it is. I will not bow down. I have fought for these and I will fight. And, what’s more, I’d do it all over again.