When I say it’s been a “full” life, I definitely don’t mean it’s been a happy one. But I’ve accomplished a lot, experienced a lot, and now like a runner who’s exhausted and crippled from running so hard I’mÂ going to stop.
Human societyÂ is anti-suicide. Everyone tells you it’s wrong, everyone tries to talk you out of it. That’s fine. But I really think suicide is a logicalÂ action when you no longer have a desire to live (a lot more logical than continuing to do something you don’t want to do).
I lost my desire to live a year ago when something horrible happened. I held on for a year hoping for a miracle, but life just got worse. People got crueller, life got colder, I got sicker, and the emptiness of existence got bigger.
Suicide is not always a choice.Â As withÂ the exhausted runner who falls to the ground and can’t get up again, suicide is sometimes a predictableÂ reaction to the pain and exhaustion of life. It just happens.
I don’t know why I’m writing this. I suppose I thought it would make me feel better, but it feels just as pointless as anything else. I think it was Marx who said on his deathbed, “Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough.”