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Wordpress is annoying.

 

Anyway…

 

This is my first “post,” though my story is entirely too convoluted and nebulous to really nail… so i’ll just say this:

 

I’m an early-middle-aged white male, who has had a profoundly depressing, worthless, lonely and unfulfilling life.

I don’t burn or cut or self-harm (unless cigarettes count), i don’t drink (at all) or do any drugs (haven’t even smoked any cannabis in over a year, now… though i will admit i’ll never truly stop loving it)…

Though i have had a few isolated incidents in the past, where i lost self-control and did self-harm, it has never been anything that persists or establishes any pattern.

I honestly don’t enjoy pain at all. It doesn’t nothing for me. It hurts.

 

For me, the whole point of suicide is about not wanting to hurt… and believing that my death is literally the only way to avoid experiencing a life i do not want, never did want, tried to avoid, and will never perceive as acceptable.

It’s not that i don’t want to live.

It’s not that i don’t want to be alive.

It’s that i don’t want this life… which, since me is all i can be, all i can do is all i can do, and i can never be anyone else, no matter what i might try… this life that i can’t take, is the only one i’ve got. That’s what i don’t want.

 

I want a life that isn’t mine, that isn’t what mine has become, that has more options and opportunities for me to make use of, so that i can actually reach, attain, achieve, experience and cherish, all the things that make life “worth living for.”

But i do not perceive any way to accomplish that… and i tend to get told, quite often, things like “everyone has problems,” or “you can’t always get what you want…”

I get sick of having trite trashy cliche’s thrown in my face, as if somehow they are the golden answers to not just my problems, but everyone else’s problems as well.

I’m sick of being surrounded by idiots who base everything they perceive, on false ideals and fantasies.

I’m tired of hearing “God this” and “Jesus that” and “blah blah Hell/Heaven/Scripture/Etc.”

None of that is helping. None of that ever has helped. None of that ever will.

I want answers and solutions to the problems that are relevant to my life NOW, not some imaginary scenario that may or may not exist, of which no one can truly be sure… of which any reasonably sane critical thinker can determine to be extremely unlikely to exist.

 

And here’s my thing about the “God says Hell for Suicides” BS that people throw around:

If there is an Actual God, who made Me the way i am… then He knows he made a crippled, depressed, unattractive, failure atheist, who will inevitably be unhappy in life, and suffer immensely.

Why would a “good” God do such a thing?

Why would an “all powerful” God allow such suffering?

The Bible (supposedly) states that God is literally incomprehensible, and cannot be properly understood by human capacity.

So… how could any “God,” ever be angry or displeased with us for being unable to understand “Him?”

And, if He made us “in his own image,” then… maybe He is not “all good” or “all powerful” or “perfect.”

Maybe God does exist, but not the way anyone has yet defined. Maybe He’s just a phenomenal cosmic being who suddenly realized “OMG i can create life through a chain of seemingly un-connectable events, resulting in an almost impossibly complex system resulting from but a single origin!!!1!!!”

 

I find it far more plausible to understand that people needed a way to explain phenomena, way back when, which also proved useful for population control, and thus, religion was born.

 

And so being an atheist in southern U.S. really sucks. Everything around me is based on what i can only reasonably define as “false doctrine.” Fairytales, fantasies, and lies. Perhaps with sinister agendas, but not necessarily so.

 

I see the world as far more primitive than it should be, held back by the established systems of yore.

 

I don’t want “this one and only chance to be alive” to be wasted on such BS… but, the fact that my environment is built on that, almost exclusively, leaves me with very little choice.

 

And it just… adds needlessly excessive difficulty to a life that i already feel like i can’t use, can’t enjoy, and isn’t even worth trying to extend.

And this is all just… where i go… anytime i try to explain myself to anyone. It seems like there are a million things i have to say, just to even begin to scratch the surface.

 

I know i’m not a bad person, i know there are good things about me, and that i do have at least a few appealing qualities…

But even viewing myself in the best, most positive, yet still realistic light… it just seems like the actual truth is that even my potential best, would never be good enough for even my minimum acceptable life.

And even my minimum isn’t really worth striving for… though i’m sure i would find a way to be content with what i have spent many years to determine would be my absolute lowest acceptable baseline of existence.

 

Maximum effort, minimal gains… maximum pains for not enough to make any significant improvements, and all of my time lost on tasks that are too hard and take too long, to ever get me anywhere close to where i want to go.

 

My most often contemplated “method” of exit, has been the opening of the carotid artery. My reason for this, is that with a well-placed incision, the flow rate would be high, and the chance of “rescue” quite low, as the brain would quickly be deprived of oxygen. Not as clean or painless as i would like, but fast enough, and practically guaranteed to work. Divert the supply of oxygen-rich blood, fresh from the heart and lung, and, after the longest “minute or two” of my life, i wouldn’t have to feel, anything, anymore, ever. Plus, sharp knives are easy to obtain.

 

My own suicide would be a decision to be finished with the futile misery of a ruined life… not “because i’m sad.” Though i am often quite sad, even debilitatingly so… the real reason is because i see no option to improve my life enough so that i don’t have to be so fucking miserable anymore.

The constant requirement to consider the consequences of even attempting to express my true feelings, to anyone i know, is already enough, in and of itself, to drive someone mad.

 

So i usually just try not to have any outbursts, or even get pulled into any conversations with anyone, about anything “important.”

 

I talk to the older of my two younger half-sisters, quite a lot, and… she can relate to much of what i express, and seems to be literally the only person remaining in my life, who even cares to understand, or to make me feel comfortable even attempting to express myself, at all. It sucks to think about how my passing would impact her… but it’s not enough. Even if no one who knows me is “okay” after i’m gone… my own suffering has eclipsed my concern for what others may feel, due to my potential choice to exit. I have accepted that most would not understand, and that they will think negatively of me, after i’m gone, and specifically because i chose, because i decided i had had enough. And while that is quite bothersome and disturbing to me, it isn’t what matters. None of those people who would disapprove, are both willing and able to help me in any useful way… so while i do feel sensitive to their expected disapproval and sadness, i do not feel in any way obligated to suffer “just because” people want me to be alive.

 

After all, i want to be alive, too… but not as what i never wanted to become, and not to live a life where it’s all suffering, all the time, and there’s really nothing i can do, to make it better.

The best i can do is pretend and endure, for the sake of others. While that’s a noble notion, i almost never feel like that’s still enough, anymore.

 

So i don’t know how long i’ll be around… but i’ve been telling myself “this year will be my last” for… i’ve forgotten how long, now.

Sometimes i think i could actually convince people that it’s “what’s best” for me, to end my life, instead of unavoidable suffering.

Maybe it’s just better to leave them talking amongst and reassuring themselves… some insisting they saw it coming, while others swear they didn’t…

Instead of actually convincing them that it’s my choice, i’ve made it, and it’s the right one.

 

I get “caught up” thinking about what “those people” will think… but what really matters in this, is that i’m tired of suffering, and don’t see any other effective way to make it cease… and it’s pushed me far enough that i often feel i’m ready to face the nothingness, and to possibly not even be aware of my own non-existence.

 

But i have a dog… so i can’t just leave him hanging like that. He’s 10, blind from glaucoma, had a large mass removed from his stomach, and another one growing on his side, and a cauliflower-ear from some inexplicable and unknown thing, which caused his ear to swell up like a balloon, then shrink back down all crinkled. He’s also got a crazy skin problem that i’m pretty sure is either some sort of environmental allergy, or is just another extended result of whatever caused his tumors. We’ve battled it, and holy shit is he ever a trooper. He is intelligent and vocal and loyal and affectionate, and i’m sure he would throw himself into danger to protect me. I’ve had him since he was born, and even his lineage has a sentimental connection to some other things that… used to matter more, to me. He knows various tricks, can distinguish left/right (his), and even understands certain commands relating to the volume of his voice. Despite his various health issues, he remains quite active, and typically exhibits what i would say is the desire to continue, and rarely exhibits any symptoms of “suffering.” He is amazing. Without him i would definitely be long gone.

But i often find myself thinking: “we are both suffering… each really only here for the other… each most likely to succumb to misery, upon losing the other… i should probably put us both out of our misery.”

If i do it, i have to lose him first… because i cannot bear the thought of him missing me, and being left in the hands of… others… and ultimately not understanding what dogs can’t understand.

And if i go that far, and put him down, just so i don’t have to leave him behind… then i will have no reason to stick around, and plenty of extra sadness to help me take those final steps, and traverse that last mile.

And besides… someday his time will come, even if i don’t decide it’s time for him to go. I guess i have until then.

 

I do appreciate life itself, and find various beautiful aspects about it.

My own life is too painful, too agonizing, too filled with unquenchable longing and sorrow, for me to ever call it “beautiful.”

I don’t want my own life.

I would rather be nothing, than this.

I’m confident that my options are clearly perceived.

I know what i have, what i don’t, what i never will… and i know what i’ll have to give up, to eliminate the parts i can no longer tolerate.

 

It’s not that i “feel worthless,” but that i’m sure many others would define me as such.

Aside from my sickly beloved canine, i see nothing else attainable for me, that is worth fighting, striving, or surviving for.

Everything i see that makes life worth living, seems quite certainly beyond my reach.

 

I guess i just felt an inclination to include my abstract and vague expressions, an account of parts of my human experience, into this “suicide project.”

I like some of the stuff it says on the “metanoia” page… though i feel i am beyond what it is meant for, buried beneath mountains of insurmountable and convoluted details, into which that page does not go.

I understand… words can only do so much.

I like that they go into things not often discussed… and i appreciate their meaningful purpose.