My First Post: The plan, the hope, the end.

I’ve been suicidal for many years and, to an extent, most of my life. Not a manic obvious case of suicide but a quite, calm and patient case. It was supposed to all happen tomorrow, Friday, July 26th 2013 but won’t.

I realized recently that my plan all this time was not the right way to go about things. The plan was to take my friend’s handgun and walk from his place to the nearby hospital. There I would warn the staff about the events that were going to take place, to prepare surgery for my organ donation, and to clear out the area so that no one will have to suffer the nightmare of what I was about to do. I have a friend who works as a security guard who I was going to make sure he was on duty at the time so that he could assure others that I was no threat to them and potentially aid me in finding a private spot away from people (instead of causing some sort of horrible stand off situation). I would give them the illusion that I may be able to be talked out of it if they give me space. I am awfully curious about what people would have to say when they received their final goodbyes through facebook and txt and whatnot; when they put the pieces together that my life has been a ruse. If given the space I would spend a moment to read some of those. I imagine it would be very difficult as I care so much about them as well… and I know they don’t understand. I would wait a few minutes for word in the hospital to spread, for the right people to be informed. I would not die early unless someone was to try to interfere with my plan. I would then fire one hollow point into the base of my skull from behind, angled up and directly into my brain. There is a good chance that the hollow point wouldn’t be strong enough to even exit, the shrapnel would bounce around my skull and turn by brain into swiss cheese, killing me instantly. I would have already turned over a signed copy of a letter permitting them to donate my organs and tissues. In order to assure an autopsy was not needed I would look to commit the act on camera and have a recorded video explaining that it was my will, I am healthy, and that drugs were not a factor. I would also be carrying an envelope containing my recent blood test results. This attention to detail on my part could be the difference between saving 10 lives and just making a mess somewhere while wasting tax dollars.

There are problems with this plan. First, I may cause my friend to lose his gun. If he did get it back, he would never be able to use that gun out of grief. He might be investigated and possibly charged for some obscure law that I am not aware of for not locking his gun up or somehow being seen as assisting me. I prefer not to make his life difficult in that regard. Ideally, I should get my own gun. Second, I could fail. If I were to fail before pulling the trigger, I would be in a lot of trouble for stealing a gun and whatever else I could get charged for. I would be admitted and any further attempt would be very difficult… or gruesome. Living with the embarrassment would be awful. It seems somewhat unlikely that I would not carry it out since I’ve come to terms with the idea over the last few years and have even practiced with an empty gun to make the act natural. It is obvious how callous I am towards my own being so realistically there are only a few unlikely scenarios that would shake me from my grip on death. All of which include a text/the intervention of someone else (I won’t be taking calls at that point). Anyway, if I were to pull the trigger and fail then unless it ricochets off of my thick skull I am looking at a whole lot of pain and a life of being paralyzed at best. At worst, one of those awkward coma’s that people tend to start political debates on whether or not my brain is doing anything or if my wishes were of sound mind. There would be massive amounts of debt, my family would have to wait and see what happens to my lifeless pile of person for weeks or months. It would be awful. It’s hard for me to know exactly what the bullet would do. What if the bullet goes through and injures someone else? What if after all of that my organs don’t get donated because of something I didn’t consider? After all, there should be an autopsy to make sure I wasn’t on something. I don’t know. There is a lot that could go wrong.

However, if I give up the idea of donating my organs I much prefer the exit bag method. As an engineer it is something I can easily come up with. The ******** tank I may feed directly into a mask instead of a trash bag wrapped around my head. Regardless of the details, I feel that method has little drawbacks. I’m not poisoning myself (so organ donation is still possible). The chance of discomfort is minimal before passing out. None of it is illegal or dangerous to others. However, there seems to be a high chance of throwing up at some point after going unconscious so I’ll have to make sure that doesn’t interfere with the process. I also don’t wish to be found in a pile of throw up but then again… death isn’t typically pretty. I am still debating if I should do it near a hospital to increase the chances of organ donation. I would need about 30 minutes of peace before being discovered. Calling 911 and leaving a half hour long paper trail back to me would be interesting for sure. I’ve already got a bit of that set up.

So anyway, I will build this ******** exit bag setup and do some tests. Once I am satisfied I will set it aside and start gathering my things. I don’t plan on leaving a mess behind for people to have to sort through. My things will be in clearly marked containers in accordance with my will. I will even deliver much of it myself as I have the time. People are so unobservant sometimes. I could place something in their bedroom and they may never see what I’ve left until I tell them so in my final correspondence. The title to my car will have been signed over, tubs full of things, and even my guitar will all be sitting in plain sight. I’ve got envelops of cash to pay for all sorts of things like my cremation, gas money to transport my things, money for the one who will take care of my pet, and for a party to bring people together (not a ridiculously expensive funeral service). I’ve been planning this for many years so I’ve got a good idea of what I want. However, it’s taken longer to set up than I had planned. Originally the ‘gun plan’ was supposed to happen Friday, July 26th 2013. A week before that I had decided to look for other options which lead to the ******** exit bag. In an ironic turn of events that week my friend left that gun on the table in front of where I sleep when I visit. He has many guns but that one I picked out a long time ago for this purpose. For many years it has been responsibly locked up or hidden (though I always had access) but recently he has started to carry it around and then decided to show me. Even letting me hold it. I wanted to take the round in the chamber as a souvenir, the bullet that should have got me. I couldn’t risk him noticing… he would know in an instant.

For now, he has no idea. I doubt anyone suspects anything. I will not allow myself to hold myself hostage in front of my friends and family. My death is my choice, not a cry for help or attention. I know if I asked it of them they would help, but it is not their help I need. If only it were that simple. I have been careful to make sure I continue normally, like a zombie, droning on and on until the last day.

In a way, certainty of death is empowering. Since I’ve decided to do it many years ago I feel I can do anything and have had much success in that confidence. It’s a shame that it doesn’t come naturally for me. As long as I have a hard grip on death I am invincible and this world cannot throw anything at me that could truly hurt me. It is only when I let go of death that I am open to be hurt… and I always am. It’s just the way of a random universe; it is no one’s fault some of us are seemingly destined for a lonely path.

What’s interesting to me is that people will assume it was my past, my demons that haunt me. Although there are few things that do still bother me, they are not a factor in my decision. My past does not control me; I’ve decided this based on my future. In my hands, it is an empty one. At 25 years old I’ve fought hard to be where I am; a career pushing six figures, a healthy body, a kind heart, and an open mind. However, what is life but something to share? Money does not buy happiness… not for me. For me, it buys time. After a lot of traveling and visiting all of those I care for, I am almost out of time. My next few weeks will be spent organizing my things, writing letters, gathering the needed materials and so on.

I’ve spent a lot of time watching this site, I’m sorry to see so many tortured and lost souls. Some of them seem to have a following; some of them seem to ramble into the darkness. Hopefully all of them find some solace here, a place to vent and to finally be heard. I know that my mind is jarred when I see someone who feels exactly as I do. Sometimes a post threatens to shake me loose of my prison for a moment but it never does. Regardless, I feel like a lot of you are alone… but you share the same frustration. Reaching out to someone is important. You may find release in talking to someone who feels the same way so you at least don’t feel like the only person on earth not living that media driven picture perfect life. You might find that there is something in the future you want to experience so hold on to that and wait for it. I used to wait for movies, games, books, events in history. Aren’t you curious who the next idiot president will be? How about when they finally turn “booknamehere” into a movie? Why not wait for the next breakthrough in processors or some ridiculous google gadget? Why not write a book and leave it on the front step of a publishing office? Why not try to figure out photography? You’re gonna end it anyway… why not explore that last thing you want for a bit? At the end of that, you can re-evaluate things. Anyway, that kind of thinking got me out of my teens with only a few half hearted suicide attempts. I would never go back to my teens. If you’re under 21 years old and especially under 18 don’t do anything rash… just push through. Your brain is a scumbag and for the majority of people it levels out and stops making you feel so crappy all the time.

I know that any advice I may give makes me a hypocrite in the end but I do honestly hope that no one makes an uninformed hasty decision to end it all… or fail trying and have to live with the consequences.

I am new to this site. As a disclaimer I am going to add that I am not here to talk you out of anything or into anything and I’m not asking you to do the same for me. I am an emotionally stable person and will not deal with any “talk to me or I will end it” folks. I don’t want any part in it. Nor will I assist in your endeavor to create a device to hurt yourself. That would be irresponsible of me. If you have any questions or comments I may be open to feeding curiosities and uplifting passive advice. I’ll be around for a week or maybe even a month yet. I’ll be sure to do a follow up either way.