Why did I come here? I have no intention of dying. I wear the mask of happiness day in and day out. No one knows my secret pain, and I shall keep it that way. I came here for release. A place to put down words that express the emotions I must compress, day in and day out, while I wear the mask for the sake of others who cannot bare the face behind my mask.
I do not want their pity. There is nothing they could say or do to make it better, for nothing at all is wrong. My life is perfect. I just…hurt. The doctors have tried, pill after pill. The healers have tried, technique after technique. Nothing can fix me, because nothing is wrong, and so, for their sake, I hide the pain behind the mask and give my all to those who love the mask.
Cancer leads to death. Accidents lead to death. Aging leads to death. Death is the ultimate and final destiny of all living creatures. Why then, would my death, be it now or be it then, make any difference? Is the loss considered greater if it is delivered by thine own hand? Is their pain more insufferable because those I leave behind could not stay my hand? If I was ill, or tragedy struck, or the clock finally ticks it last tock, would their pain be so much less than if I delivered myself, by my own hand, from the unbearable pain that I bear, for their sake, day in and day out?
1 comment
I feel the same way. I believe that there is something hard-wired into satisfied people that makes them want to prevent death. It’s so ironic, though, because we know that we are all going to die. Some people have asked me why I want to rush my death, and I wonder why people wish to prolong my life. Perhaps suicide just makes others look bad or something?