Here I am. A nineteen-year-old young fella, sitting in one of the cafés in Agdal. Looking at my watch, “Twenty past two.” I still have another ten minutes to get to my low-paying job. It has been a year now since all hell broke loose. A year that was full of sadness and sorrow, all because I tried to be a better person, a better man. Mistakes were made, but none of which I truly regret. After all, mistakes are what shape a person.
I am sitting here, sipping on my coffee and worrying if I can afford it, enjoying the smooth smoke that is filling my lungs and burning my eyes, and wondering if life is worth it. The smell of the boiling oil is suffocating. The broken speakers that are supposed to soothe the atmosphere with some music are turning this place into a non-ending agony. However, I would rather be here than all alone facing my demons on my own.
Therefore, I am writing to you, dear stranger, let this be my final attempt at salvation. I often wonder if ending it all would be the solution. The idea is always flirting with my mind, but I usually try to ignore the urge and push the thought to the back of my mind. Deep down, I know that I am not worthy of that sweet rest, at least not yet. I always had respect for people who chose to take control of their lives and challenge what is known as time. I dare not say I envy them for I cannot do it for the sake of my own mother and family. I believe one cannot savor the sweetness of life without always bearing in mind the inevitable end. That is the main reason religious people always find happiness. Is that what I am missing though? Religion?
My cousin, to whom I confide all of my sorrows, never forgets to mention whenever we talk that the connection with “God” is essential in one’s life. Personally, I feel like that connection was broken or was never there. Bold of you to assume that I am a non-believer. I do believe that this world has a creator. However, religion is still a big question mark for me.
I feel ashamed of the failure that I have become. One of the many reasons that put a setback to my social life. I do not want you to feel sorry for me, stranger. I am well past that or at least trying to. However, I do feel a pang of deep guilt for all the people I ghosted. This is my apology to all of you. Moreover, let this passage be a show of gratitude to the one person, who believed and came through for me throughout every turn of what is my miserable life. Thank you, dear cousin.
I did not forget about you, stranger. These are only the starting pages of my pursuit of salvation. However, my ten minutes have passed. Until next time,
