The Ultimate Sacrifice

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It would've probably been best if I'd let my late grandmother die. Years of chronic physical and mental pain would've been spared from me if I did that. Yet, I chose to be a good kid and do the right thing. The punishment for doing so was severe. Pain, depression and amnesia that lasted for 17 years. People were surprised when I talked about that event, back when the memories started to appear in my mind.

She screamed in agony that the world had forsaken her and reached for a knife and stabbed herself on the floor. If she didn't notice me, she would not pull it off her body. I was only 9 when it happened. And to think, this specific event caused so much suffering on my part, and only extended her life by 5 years. The amount of pain that I had to go through these 17 years have prevented me the ability to continue my academic studies and made it difficult to find a job, as jobs required me to handle pressure which I already had by default ever since 2007.

But now? Now I feel great, so great that it's as if I never saved her. The ultimate sacrifice spared me the need to be integrated into society, and instead build my own world where I am sovereign. I don't seek anyone's pity for enduring such a hard early life. I'm glad I did the right, heroic thing. It gave me the vast amount of freedom I have today.

Doing such a unique thing as a child has made me one of a kind. I never got any thanks from my extended family from doing it, only from my mother. Not only I had to carry vast amounts of pain, but I also didn't got any reward for doing it. It was a sick sacrifice. Most people in my case would probably do the cowardly thing and run away, letting their grandmother die by her own hands. I don't blame them. It requires a certain amount of care for your fellow human being to be so dedicated as to be there for them when they need it most, even at the cost of their own sanity and wellbeing.

I saved several more people after that, but none of it were as dramatic and traumatising as saving my late grandmother. To prevent myself from doing such heroic deeds ever again, I choose to live in isolation as I recover from said event. Thus far, my life has been that of trauma and pain. I learned to see society as hostile and unforgiving, and my negative experiences with them didn't change that. Most people wouldn't save their own grandmother, let alone strangers on the internet. They would let them die and not make sacrifices for them. Some might even encourage them to die, which I find truly sickening, yet normal.

And despite all the good I did for other people, I am left alone, all because I was mentally unstable for most of my life, as I didn't have as good medication as I have today. Life since 2025 have been heavenly compared to the hell I had to went through ever since 2007. And, no one was there for me when I needed it. No one was there when I attempted to take my own life countless times. Most people wouldn't sacrifice themselves in the name of good like I did. They're too weak for that.

No amount of such ultimate sacrifices would be able to rectify this cursed world. People would still seek to die, and many more would, due to their cowardice of doing such an act, choose to live in utter misery. I don't blame those who want to leave this cursed realm. It is a moral choice many would (and will) choose.

It is incredible to me how utterly puny and weak many people are, to the point they can't face the truth. They prefer comfort and ease over the liberating strength found in heroism. Most people wouldn't choose to be heroes, to be saviours, nor to help others without some kind of compensation on their end. They would find saving people irrational. However, saving my late grandmother was a wise decision, as it deviated me from the rest of the world, forming my own little kingdom of creative freedom. Even if it came at the severe cost of pain, it ultimately set me free from the need to partake in society, and become a slave to it like most people are.

If I had the choice, I'd do it again. Anything but surrendering my freedom to an uncaring cold, harsh world. It is a world where you could do all the things expected of you and still remain a sucker. I'd prefer to be free as a disabled person than to be enslaved as a functioning member of society. Why would I want to partake in this world? This world caused so much suffering to my late grandmother, and forsaken her when she was at her worst. Her contributions to this world didn't matter. She was alone and on the brink of taking her own life regardless. This has made me wonder about the point of being a part of such a cruel, unfair world.

Beyond the need to survive and beyond the incentive of working much for this world, I don't find the point of being a part of it. One or few missteps on your end, and the people of this world would forsake you without an ounce of regret. And, if and when you are to want to take your own life, no one will come and save you. That is the harsh reality of this world, no matter how attached you'll grow to it and to its members. Perhaps people will come comfort you at your funeral, but rarely when you're at your worst.

I spent years contributing online only to be met with antagonism. Perhaps most people aren't worthy of saving, including those I saved online. Perhaps it's best that I follow as most people do, and never save again. Saving has gotten me the freedom most people would die for. There's no point sacrificing any longer.