When I die, I would like my body cremated and my ashes scattered at dawn somewhere in the island of Corregidor overlooking the sea. That place wherein for once in my adult life I found peace and happiness that I cannot even put to words. Along with the forgotten yet peaceful structures and unrecognized graves. The dead and living vegetation that humans haven’t touched for ages much like the thoughts and feelings I’d carry with me to my final resting place.

And if they can I would like them to play some of my favorite songs starting with Bon Iver’s Holocene. As the people dear to me bid me farewell, I would like to be reminded of the beauty of the world I once was a part of albeit small. I would like good music playing as I give them my blessing to forget me and be happy for the last time.

And if one day they decide to visit me, my resting place would offer them the peace and quiet I always wanted to give them when I was living.

I woke up this morning and asked myself “Do you get depressed when you’re sick? Or do you get sick because you’re depressed?” No one of course answered. I’m alone.

Perhaps one of the reasons why it’s not easy to shake off depression is because at some point it gives you a sense of clarity. There on your bed or in some cozy seat somewhere. Sometimes your inadequacy is true. Sad but true. And there can be comfort in knowing this truth; you can recognize it and bounce back! But on the arguably more published cases, the person succumbs to it.

I am not saying goodbye. I often get bouts of depression but I always get by.

But I’m putting this in public domain to reach as many of the people I know as I can. Because if I write this down on one of my notebooks, this will surely just end up boxed and stored somewhere hopefully for my grandchildren’s discovery and fascination. I spent my life waiting for things I could not control to happen; I think it’s fair enough to not wait long for my last wishes to come true. -aB


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