I don’t really have many problems. My life is pretty perfect, actually. I have a lot of people that love me, an awesome bachelors pad, and a promising career ahead of me. Yet, I still have no motivation to carry on.
Like most people on here, I was at hurt at some point. Do any of you guys have a favorite person? That one person who you always call first when you’re looking for something to do? That one person that you would have gone to the edges of the Earth for? I use to have one of those guys. His name was Mark, and he was the best thing since sliced bread. We were inseparable. I loved him, and he knew it.
That didn’t stop him from shooting himself.
Without any kind of warning or signal, he hugged me goodbye for the last time on December 3rd, 2010, went home and shot himself in his parents bedroom. Needless to say, I was quite taken back by this. I placed a lot of guilt on myself, because he was uncomfortable with his sexuality and I was the only who could have helped him. All of our friends were extremely homophobic, and his parents were as well. I was openly bisexual, and I failed him as a friend.
Not only did I fail him, but I failed our friends as well. Regardless of how homophobic everybody was, it was still Marks choice to blow his brains out in his parents bedroom. He left a brief vague note on their bed that didn’t really explain much. Nobody knows his exact reasoning for it. It was as if he purposely left me with this burden because I wasn’t able to handle it while he was alive.
I didn’t handle this burden too well guys, let me tell you.
I immediately told the aforementioned homophobic friends after his passing before we found the note. I wasn’t ready to make that decision, and did it out of fear and irrationality. I essentially ruined their lives. They have blamed themselves ever since, just as I have. One of them has developed anti-social personality disorder, and he’s completely detached from the world. The other ones are doing heavy drugs and no longer talking with anyone.
So not only have I failed Mark, but I failed everyone else that I love as well. I kind of suck at existing, you know? The people that I care about the most are the people whose lives I ruin. I’m tired of inflicting that pain onto people, and I don’t see much point of existence. I’ve been so lucky in life in having all of these beautiful things and these awesome fucking people, but I don’t deserve it.
I’m pretty tired of being alive to be honest. I’m tired of feeling guilty of wanting death. Life is exhausting, for anybody. For the people in 3rd world countries that have to walk miles everyday to get freshwater. For melodramatic young adults in western civilization who are seeing the world for what it is for the first time. Anxiety is all the same, it just occurs in different manifestations.
This is going to hurt people. This is going to drive the nail that haves already been driven into their hearts, even further. I love these people, and they want nothing but the best for me. Yet, I am going to ignore how they feel, and take the easy way out. I’m going to take my pain, and amplify it times a billion through their souls. Because as a recently deceased boy once told me, “Sometimes you just have to ignore peoples feelings. It’s the easiest way.” And as rotten as that sounds, it’s true. In order to be making such a selfish decision, you have to be selfish.
I don’t believe in a heaven or hell, and I don’t believe in an existence after this one. I am going to go back into the Earth, and that’s just the way it’s gonna be. No consciousness. No decisions. No guilt. Just nothing.
Maybe I’ll do a slow painful death so that I can at least somewhat make up for the misery I will be putting everyone through.