A Failure in Life

Last Friday, I made my first half-hearten attempt to end myself by climbing to the highest point on the mountain and jump off the edge. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t bring myself to go off the cliff–I’m a coward, just like what I’ve always been all my life. It was too public; too many kids, hikers, over-lookers lurking around to run over the fence and off the edge. Opportunity presented itself on several occasions, but I was weeping so hard inside to make the go. One thing that really held me back was the fact that there is a steep decline before going over the edge, which from my perspective, my legs wouldn’t probably have had enough vim to carry on all the way, and I’d have been tumbling down before going off.

It was far more scarier than I had anticipated even though there would have been a few hundred feet of drop after that as an assurance of no survival. My life has always been a chain of one failure to overcome performance anxiety and fear after another. I’ve been telling my parents that I’m attending school while in reality, I wasn’t even gotten accepted into any (for masters). Even after my BS, I was too timid to seek jobs in my major and years have passed, so I highly doubt anyone would hire me in this economy where even professionals are struggling at no avail. I had to make up lies so my parents let me back home as I could not support myself any longer while pretending I was indeed attending school and graduating which was entirely a lie.

After my failure, I had no other choice to call my mother and express I’m going to jump because there was no graduation–I know, how pathetic! I don’t blame any of you if you wish to disparage me. I don’t deserve to be alive. I know my life is not going anywhere; I’m even more worthless than a high school drop out now. My parents begged me to come back home, but now, as I had suspected, they are going crazy and launching avalanche of threats and ultimatums. Eventually, I would have no other choice to seek refuge on the streets which, in my mind, is not going to happen.

I had immaculately cleaned the house, discarded any trace that I wouldn’t want to leave behind (a long list I had produced and diligently went through each item before my departure), in hopes of making the funeral less painful or stressful for others, e.g. they don’t have to worry about cleaning rooms/bathrooms or changing bed sheets, etc., when the guests come over to stay. I had left all sort of descriptions over the items my parents usually can’t figure out themselves to operate. I even buried my entire livelihood stored on multiple memory cards deep under the ground. I still don’t have it in me to dig them up, and the way things are going, I don’t think I have to.

I failed the first attempt, which wasn’t even materialized to be considered an attempt, but desperately seeking other venues to off myself, i.e. peaceful medication (not applicable as the substances are very hard to come by), hanging (which is very painful) but my will to stop life is so strong at this moment, and I see no future what so ever. I really want to live but I just don’t see a way out other than going down. My mother wept hysterically yesterday coming to the realization how close she was going to lose me. But now, they all mounting vicious attacks not knowing how depressed I am and how their action will certainly push me to the edge. In a sense, their displeasure towards me is removing my sorrow and feeling of nostalgia that I had knowing I will be thinking about them at the last moment. I’m sure my other sibling wouldn’t feel an iota of compassion for me as she assumes, I’m playing them.

I know I have a short time to live–maybe a few days, a week!–and no longer thinking about any sort of fear of after life. I’ve let everyone down, especially myself for being paralyzed to seek a job. Oh, how I wish I could have turned my life around back then. If I miraculously time travel back to my college years, I would do everything to get an internship, but it is too late now. Too late for me. All the fear of death I have had, I have come to surpass. If someone suggests that tonight, in my sleep, I would be gone, I would not fear the consequence. I just don’t want to have my heart or head explode before going out, i.e. jumping or hanging. None of them are a pleasant way of going through the last few moments of your life. One must go with utmost peace of mind and not with sheer terror. I have lost over 6 lbs in two days and can’t bring myself to eat or else I’ll purge. This is not the way to go through life.

I just don’t know what to do now. I know the end is nigh, and I have made peace with the fact that my life will come to an end soon. I just wished knew how. As I was climbing the trail to the top of the mountain, I kept thinking this is a nightmare; this can’t be; this is not happening… but it was, and soon it will be. I see my sibling excelling in life even though she sometimes calls me to ask questions regarding her new position. How cruel is it that employers don’t even consider the unemployed for any position and let anyone currently employed regardless of their lesser comparative skills with someone who is not employed. I wish her the best; she is going to be the one to carry my parents after me, not that I was doing much. Heck, I’m a drag on everyone. I don’t even think anyone would want me to push grocery carts at this junction. With my knees and failing joints (no health insurance), military, which I always thought would be the last resort, is also out of question.

My life is one big lie, and people in my position should exit to open ways for other more promising members of society. I just wished hanging wasn’t so excruciatingly painful. I am so sick and tired of even lamenting over offing myself–how coward one can be? Enough is enough.