Driving home last night from a casual party with old friends, I had to laugh. What would they say if they found out that I, the charming, funny, positive guy who was so full of life, slammed his car into a bridge overpass at 82 mph because he couldn’t take the pain of life a minute longer?
In the car at 3 am with no other soul as far as I could see, I shouted as loud as I can, until my voice blew out and there was just a dry rasp left in my throat. It didnt do a damn of good. I pounded the steering wheel so hard I wondered if tge airbag would pop out. Again, another pointless exercise.
And then I got to the toll booth where I suddenly became that fake person again under the bright sodium lights, smiling and telling the toll taker “Thanks, have a great night!”
Then driving off into my personal darkness, wondering how fast I would have to be going to ensure a suicide success.
I will do it. May I rot in hell until I do.