Kristian MichailIt’s 2020. I’m 27. My brother asked me to be the best man at his wedding. And if I am honest, I am shocked he even chose me. I don’t think I deserve such an honour. I feel like a complete failure as a man, personally and professionally. A mind of chaos, a heart in anguish and a spirit beyond repair. I had fallen so far from the wonders of my teens, that I truly thought I was cursed. The thought of killing myself was a weekly occurrence. Some days, I would scream to die as I bit my pillow. But, I knew killing myself was not an option. Firstly, I couldn’t do it to the people I loved. There was very little I was grateful for, except my family. I felt like a total burden to their lives. My presence, an insult. Secondly, I intuitively knew that ending it prematurely would only perpetuate the suffering in the next life. So I travelled the world in my twenties instead. To run away, to escape, to remove myself from the equation. Travel was my alternative to suicide. I did not want those who I loved most to see my suffering, my debauchery, my emptiness.
I packed my bags during the height of COVID in 2020 and leave Australia. The tyranny dominating Melbourne, the most locked-down city in the world, makes my skin crawl. I now hate the country I was born, I resent my compliant neighbours and I am sickened by my own life’s progress. It was the trifecta of darkness, and I needed a lifeline. I book a flight to Indonesia to exit the matrix. I buy some time to work these demons out. I tell my brother before leaving that I need to get on that plane. Even if it means, I would never return. At that time, I was not sure if I ever would. His first concern is whether I will be at this wedding. My concern was whether I would even be alive by then. If only he knew how on the edge I was. I probably should have died in Indonesia, multiple times. I would drink myself into oblivion and drive 150km/ph on the motorbike home. I was dancing with the devil and I knew it. One wrong move and it was all over. Someone was looking over me, thank God I didn’t die. God kept enough love in my heart to return me home. A few months before the wedding, I return to Australia. Somehow I was allowed back into into the country after a stint in the Balinese jungle. Covid restrictions had locked thousands of people out from re-entering the borders, so I was lucky to slip back in. I do 10 days of quarantine, I refuse to live in a locked-down city, so I move into the forest. I’m managing a
I felt like a total burden to my family. My presence, an insult.
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