Painting

I painted this picture one day when existentialism was strong on my mind. I hadn’t painted it because I was feeling suicidal. I hadn’t painted it because I wanted some attention from my parents. I hadn’t painted it just because it looked cool. I painted it because it spoke to me. I hear a lot of negative opinions from all of my family about suicide. They say those people are cowards. They say those people don’t know how good life is. They say those people are selfish. They say those people are mental. Well I say different. I say suicide is damn ugly and suicide is damn beautiful.

Let me explain.

THE UGLY PART

You’re in pain.

You feel worthless.

You feel ugly.

You feel useless.

You feel like scum.

You feel you need to die.

There is so much ugly to the suicide.

But if you think about it, that ugly part isn’t suicide.

That ugly part is all the stuff that LED to suicide.

And for some ugly reason, it just so happens that you created the ugly yourself.

THE BEAUTIFUL PART

You get to be your own release.

You choose the place.

You choose the day.

You choose the time.

You choose the how.

You decide everything.

And when you’re at that end,

you soar away like a butterfly.

Your release yourself from your own hell.

I really really get the appeal. I really wanted it so many times. To just let it all go. But suicide turned out not to be my release. It isn’t for everyone, just like life sometimes isn’t for everyone. I found my release in living. I found it in just being me. But I really get how suicide give that same feeling for others.

I had hoped my painting would explain that to my family. Instead they grew overly concerned. I hope someday I can find the words, or the painting, that will finally show them what i mean.