I’d Rather Death Than Submission.

How many times have you fallen and gotten back up?

How many times have you seen the end of the tunnel, only to realize there was no light waiting for you?

I have a strange way of thinking.

No matter how many times you fall, the climb back feels different.

Better, almost.

Maybe that's because you know what it feels like to be down there.

I always think about the ignition.

You can turn the key and let every memory you've ever had sit beside you.

The good ones.

The bad ones.

The ones that tell you to keep going.

The ones that tell you to turn around.

But you already made the deal.

So why turn around now?

I'd rather not submit.

Id Rather test the position.

Sit in the seat.

See how it feels.

See what it looks like from there.

See how everything changes when you're finally on the other side of the decision.

Maybe that's my sixth sense speaking.

Maybe I'm just aware of how far ahead I could be if I keep going.

But nothing is promised.

Not tomorrow.

Not Today.

So I'd rather death than submission.

Some will say that's crazy.

The ones who wouldn't probably will.

And the ones who get it don't need an explanation.

That's okay.

Not everything has to arrive with instructions.

Some things are meant to be felt before they're understood.

This isn't really a column.

It's more like a reckless attempt to leak a little of myself into the words.

A future before it happens.

A thought before it becomes a decision.

A breath.

Until then, I'll start with what's in front of me.

I’d rather not submit.

I shut down.

I disappear.

I become difficult to understand.

Maybe I'm a complex soul.

But a mask has never been enough to hide what's underneath.

Look around.

We live in a reality carved out of lies, expectations, and things we were told to accept.

And still—

There is one thing I know.

I am who I am.

No explanation.

No Permission.

No submission.