I am not a coward. This is me drowning my breath, in a vast ocean of red dead redemption. I’m cut from the monstrosity of a soul, and I have spared none, in violating its ability to resist this temptation. Patience, while I stimulate a selfish behavior for once. This is not a suicide note, I’m not that dramatic. When I decide to stain the sheets with anguish, it will be the most peaceful and quiet release. Like the terrible silence of an antic gun. Like the rain drops over abandoned shores. Like your blurry reflection in a mirror, after a hot bath.
There is no cowardice in taking your own life. It takes more courage to steal a breath, than to let it wither and fade on its own. I know, if I don’t, and after it fades away in time, I will be laughing at my own absurdity. But I’ve been here before, staring down at my own grave, for many, many times. This state of limbo, crushes every will of human tolerance that I have left.
Between the past, the future, and loud girls swallowing shots in the opposite corner, I keep travelling over time and space. A guy shows up and tries to shyly insert himself, into this equation of continuous escalation. The level of potential sin keeps my thoughts well fed, and my vision dissected with a thousand crying children. I can’t remember the names, but I know at least a few of them. I came to acknowledge them through every life I’ve had. Fucking saviors of the day, bring me to light, illuminate the dark corridors of my mind with your hypocrisy.
I slit my throat once. I drowned myself in the next season. I sat on an 8th floor balcony for hours, with my bare feet dangling in freezing air. I gulped down fuel tanks, and incinerated my intestines. Whoever told you that it’s not the answer, is a shadow of a half accomplice I once had. They get scared shitless over their own feelings. You see, guilt kills, and terrifies people. Pity often comes to their rescue, with senseless pondering about God, butterflies, movies, and bad examples. It begins with ‘I know how you feel…’ and then you anticipate their ‘but…’
I’m in a relationship with my own feelings. The mind is a beautiful wonder, and it takes two to tango. I won’t let go of how I feel. It’s my Achilles’ Heel, and it’s larger than life.
‘What do you wake up for?’ – a morning show keeps shoving this advertisement in my face. I did my intentional math, and it didn’t add up. I failed to find a justification. Sunrise is a wretched creation, that forcibly invites terror through the cracks of my dungeon.
Please understand, this is not about them. This is also unrelated you. It’s neither him nor her. I conclude twenty six years of a personal experience, in simple text that continues to miscarry me, consistently. The glass is half full, the room is colorful, and the mind is most violent.
There’s a spider’s web in my brain. No nerves to issue commands, just a maiden spider conspiring against my will. Suicide has always been controversial, but not for me. I knew I’d do it, sooner or later, I wished to do it. I promised myself to gather enough courage, and conquer it with massive strength and persistence.
Oh mother, please forgive me for what I am about to do.