I’m packing up my life. Tying up loose ends. Cleaning it out. It’s making me really sad actually. Almost like this person has died already and I’m packing up her life.
I know it’s my choice. I can stay if I really want to. I just don’t think it’s an option anymore. But this girl, she seems like she had potential. Seems like she left a big hole it the lives of so many people.
This is hard.
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Yeah. It makes it all seem real. I’ve had three suicide attempts. But in none of them did I really, truly think of what things would be like AFTER it happened. It was all pretty much spur-of-the-moment. Now is different. I keep thinking and planning of what I would like to have done before I’m gone. And I keep thinking of more insignificant things. Like, maybe I just want to watch this episode on Tv first. Or, I just need to clean out my fridge….
I walk into my parents house and look at them. My Dad watching tv. My Mum playing Candy Crush on her phone. My brother on his computer. And I imagine it’s a day after I’m gone and I’m not really there, I’m just observing them, going on with their lives.
Zelda, I do exactly like you…I imagine people just going on with their lives (while I’m still here talking to them).
But opposite to you I picture the scenary after my suicide in details…but a question remains: who will find me? And Who will bury me? May be there will be no me when I am finally found…
I imagine that too. I really wouldn’t want it to be gruesome. And I really wouldn’t want anyone in my family to find me. It would be really hard to organise it the way we want.
Pack the things. Erase all HDs. Let the things done. Choose the place, the method, pick a date. Lie to everyone I’ll travel. Etc etc etc
I felt anxiety writing that….one day it’ll be me.
Good job to you fitzgerald who are packing. You are a brave person!