relaxing at death’s door

I’ve had this image in my head for the last several weeks. It’s of me sitting in an empty white space, leaning up against a solitary white framed wooden door. I imagine that once I arrived in this white purgatory, I spent a great deal of time beating against the door, jiggling the knob, trying to move on to what’s next. But after a while, I realized that nothing I can do will open the door, so I sit and wait. Occasionally I knock on the door softly, whisper sweet nothings to it, but the door remains firmly in place.

It’s a metaphor for the way I live my life, or I should say the way I DON’T live my life. I’m just sitting here, killing years of time, waiting for the door to open. I’m a severe coward and paranoid beyond belief, so I’m rarely in life threatening situations. The slightest sign of sketchiness and I remove myself from the area. So it’s likely that when the door does finally open, I’ll be a bitter old man with a cane, hearing aids and seeing eye dog.

I’ve said this in all of my recent posts and will echo it again here: I don’t want to get old. It’s a scary thought, being here for another 30+ years doing nothing in particular. Nothing about living in society interests me anymore. I’m a shut-in so my bread and butter is TV, movies, video games, but I’ve lost almost all interest in entertaining myself with these things. The only times I’m ever in the mood to indulge in my former pleasures are when I smoke weed. This has really become a putrid life.

I met an SP user, Kills, this week and it was one of the most amazing times that I’ve ever had with another person. I’m usually filled with anxiety and dread when meeting new people, but we hit it off instantly. There’s always a limit to how much I can relate to another human being and enjoy their company because of my suicidal/depressive feelings, but getting along with Kills was effortless. I never met someone else with suicidal thoughts and it was so freeing to be able to talk about it openly and without fear of judgement. It re-affirmed my old thought that if all us SP users lived in the same town and hung out regularly, we wouldn’t be half as unhappy as we are.

Being surrounded by people who’ve never dwelled on the idea of suicide is suffocating. Having to constantly pretend that you’re like everyone else so that no one singles you out and tries to throw you in the nuthouse is a stifling way to live. I feel like a foreign spy, or a closeted homosexual in a homophobic environment. I can’t talk about who I am or how I feel with anyone except for those who feel the same way and know where I’m coming from. It was such a pleasure to exchange thoughts with Kills. We were surrounded by people on the patio we were sitting at, but still we talked loudly and openly about everything that we talk about on SP; the futility of life, the decline of society, spirituality and what happens after death.

It was a life changing meeting of the minds, and yet I still sit waiting patiently at death’s door. I’d love to do all of the things my heart desires (go into politics and reform my country, write novels, become a pro wrestler, produce music), but I can’t help but think about the next 30 years of living in isolation. After meeting Kills, it hurts a bit more because now I know there are people out there who I can be myself around, but that I’ll probably never get to meet them. Thank goodness for Suicide Project connecting us all to one another, but I wish that there was a place that we could all live and be together. Maybe then I wouldn’t care so much about when death’s door will finally slide open.