As I write these words, perhaps the deepest irony would be that, unlike the title suggests, I am not actually contemplating suicide. In fact, I am contemplating the exact opposite: life. All that has been (past), and that is (present) and all that might be (future). Perhaps the most meaningless of these three is the past, for I can no longer change it and thus it deserves no further thought. For when has regret ever brought anyone success or sanity?
The future holds within it a great sense of mystery, fear and frustration. Obsessing over what I do now and how it may affect me in the long run has become somewhat of a preoccupation, grasping me in such a way that I can no longer function in the present. And without warning (or invitation) the past creeps back in, reminding me of my failures and short comings and an individual. A lurking remnant, its only purpose these days is to inflict paranoia in me, causing anxiety with every decision I make in regards to my future. As if to say, "It didn't work then, it's not going to work now."
Yet, of all these, it's the present I have the most difficulty with. Dealing with the 'now', taking things as they are, expecting nothing more and nothing less. Perhaps it has something to do with the pace; it's too idle for my liking. I know they've always said progress was slow but I don't think I ever realized how snail-like it really is.
I live my life regretting many things in my past, though not all things, dreading my future and forgetting the present. And it may be for these reasons that the title came to mind. I will admit, I have contemplated suicide on more than one occasion. But I think for now, I will try to contemplate the present, for it is called this because it is a gift.
