I firmly believe there is no life after death. Death is final. It is just dust to dust and ashes to ashes. But the travails of life and of living have me on my knees bowing to any force above to help me redeem myself and reform my life.
My greatest fear is life as much as death. I used to fear being lost in insanity forever. But now I fear losing life without finding myself worthy of life or love. Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, I am on lithium medication and have had quite a few episodes of insanity stretching from being months together to just a couple of days. Each time I come out of the episodes with some memory intact. Even if I believe in God, I don’t believe in the devil. I can’t subscribe to a theory of a superior force being evil. A miracle makes you believe in good and in God.
But what of the memories I have of recent episodes that showed me little bad and inimical magic tricks to hinder me. I just can’t classify them as mere hallucinations when their residual effects are all around. Whatever it is I have to suppress it deep within myself. Accepting God to me might mean accepting insanity.
I have to start afresh after each episode. I end up in the start line halfway through the race. Can’t I not finish at least one race to call myself worthy of this life, worthy of love?