I Am Fearful

GLOUCESTER – Away and let me die

-King Lear (Act 4, Scene 6)

We’re studying said play in English – a subject I love but have little patience for at the moment. We were, somewhat ironically, reading through this scene today. The scene where Gloucester throws himself to his death and fails as his son, posing as a mad man, tells him they’re at a cliff. Instead of sought respite, he falls to the floor in all belief he will die and feels great sorrow when his son, now posing as a bystander, tells him it’s a miracle that he’d survived. I said something along the lines of the above when I last found myself in hospital.

I honestly don’t think there’s is a feeling worse than waking up from a suicide attempt, however real the probability of death was. You pin all your hopes on that “chance” no matter how small and the overwhelming wave of raw emotion that hits you afterwards, is one of the most negatively powerful tides you can get caught in. The disappointment, the guilt, the feeling of failure. That whole sense of being alive when it’s the opposite of intent is what I’m most scared of. If I could, and in guarantee of succeeding, I’d “shake patiently my great affliction off” in a moment, but then there’s never going to be a guarantee. I’m never going to be certain of any outcome to my actions. I’m never going to be certain that I won’t wake up.

I’m terrified of waking up yet I’m erring more and more to the side of chance. Rock. Hard place.