Everything Happens For A Reason

My uncle was diagnosed bipolar. My father once told me that in high school Jamie went around telling everyone he was Jesus. Maybe he was high on drugs. Maybe it was a metaphor. I heard that my mom used to sell acid in high school. I barely know Jamie. I only saw him a few times when I was a child. During big family get togethers I was busy playing with my cousins. I know Jamie suffered from depression. I remember him once sleeping in my Anna’s basement instead of being part of a family party. He lived there for a while.

I wonder if my Anna wish she never smoked. I wonder if she wishes she was still alive to take me and the kids in to save money. I miss her house. I miss Florence’s house too.

The idea of the dead being ghosts and watching over me creeps me out, no matter how sweet the intent. How long is one in the afterlife before being reincarnated? If you commit suicide are you anxious to start over or do you want to stay a ghost? Is time the same? I wonder if being a ghost is incredibly boring and frustrating. Watching your loved ones as they suffer, and you are unable to help. Maybe that is hell. I had a theory that there is line up to become a baby and being a good person gets you first pick. Do are you pulled into a body at random or do you have any choice at all? I’m too scared of the afterlife to kill myself.

Five months after my first suicide attempt, my uncle hung himself. I don’t know if it was because I’m an empath and was picking up on the depression of my uncle and mother, or my friend, or if it was school panic. Everything happens for a reason, so they say. All I know is that he did it while his girlfriend went to the store. I was only ten. He suffered with depression for years. I don’t know if it was planned or impulsive. I hope he has peace now though. I hope he came back and is having a happier life; or enjoys being a ghost. I kind of feel like he is haunting me, but it could be anyone. It could just be my vivid imagination. Maybe the gifted are the most haunted, maybe we torture ourselves.

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