Peace

I’m editing a draft of a post that’s over three years old, of an account I forgot existed (and tried to re-register), for an email account that had been deleted.

I remember the feeling, vaguely.
2014…
I tried to kill myself that year. Sort of. (You know how it is.)
It was a year or so since I started working full time at my dream job. Things should have been great, but it turns out I hadn’t gotten over my “PTSD” from university, and I wasn’t coping well. What was wrong?
I drafted this post a few months after that event — in April, of all times. (It seems I’ve been fooling myself for longer than I thought.)

“All I need is peace”, I told myself and others. Peace of mind. Time to relax and recuperate, you know. A deep, spiritual peace.
I don’t remember exactly what I was going to write about, but I suspect it was similar to what I would like to write about today.
No one knew of my struggles. I kept everything to myself. No journal, no friends, no lovers.
It was then I realized what was wrong with me: I was lonely as fuck.

And so it was that 2014 was also the year I found my first (and so far only) love. It was truly magical how it all happened… As if someone tailor made the experience for me.
But my love story is no different from most, and now the magic that I once cherished, haunts me; constantly reminding me of the only time in over a decade that I’ve truly felt at peace.

It’s been two years since that time. And oh, what a time that was (both the event and the years since). My sociopath lover (no, really!) was manipulating me, my grandma died, and then my stepfather shortly after.
I don’t really blame myself, but I do think that if I wasn’t going through such terrible heartbreak, I may have been able to save my stepfather. I was just so caught up… A lesson I hope I don’t forget next time I’m put to the test.

Anyway, in the years since I learned a lot about myself and my ex. My love for her has not really subsided, although I wish it had. It’s hard getting over someone who was pretending to be your ideal, especially when you realize that you are also understanding of and can somewhat relate to their anti-social personality disorder.
I question whether I’ll ever find someone that stimulates my mind quite like her again, but I highly discourage anyone doing the same as me. I’m not sure a sociopath can ever really love you. They’ll just make you watch Dexter and read bits of the DSM to you to see if you figure it out. I’m so slow…

Where am I going with this?

I guess I’m still lonely. I’ve tried to find someone else, but it turns out that they weren’t kidding when they said “one in a million”. (I knew that before but I’ve lived it now.)
I’m not attracted to most people (I don’t do the things they do, and seem to care about things on a different level), and I suspect that the people that would be a good match for me are hidden somewhere I wouldn’t know where to find them. Loners are like that, you know? They’re hard to find.
Well, except maybe on a random post on suicide project, right?
I wish!

Which brings me to the elephant in the room: suicide.
“‘Tis a consummation”, and all that.

I’m pretty freaking lonely, but there’s more to it. University drained my soul, and I have few passions left (if any). I desire very little. Sure, this may put me in a great position to pursue enlightenment (and don’t get me wrong, I have), but this life is quite the juggling act, and enlightenment asks for a degree of faith I’m clearly not ready to embrace just yet.
I have a house, and a once in a lifetime job to support it. My ill-fated roommate (Mom) doesn’t really need my help, but it would be pretty shitty of me to just leave. I’d sure feel bad for my cat, and my brother, too.
And I mean “leave” in multiple senses here, but both are largely the same.

On the one hand, I could continue down this road and pray that I find something worth living for before I drive off the cliff.
On the other hand, I could leave now, going against everything I’ve ever lived for, for something I know not.
(Hmm, the latter sounds pretty similar to the conclusion of the former, doesn’t it?)

I’m lost.
My only happy thought is finding someone, and that’s such a dangerous thread to hang by. Better it than nothing, I suppose.

Before I end this rant, I’d like to say one more thing and hopefully tie this all together.

Peace.
It’s all you really need, but I suspect that for most, it’s not enough. It’s also very hard to come by.

I wish we were more amicable to people who desire peace. Both to those who desire peace in life, and to those that desire peace in death. Suicide is not “the easy way out”, and whatever the person’s reasons — they’re not “pathetic” or “short-sighted”. No one ever asked to be here (or at least, they don’t remember asking), and no one should have to feel ashamed about wanting to leave. I’m not saying that suicide should be committed as nonchalantly as a poop, but it should be a dialog we have as a community that has something other than a cliff ending. It should be peaceful.

And with that, I hope that fate brings everyone happiness, and not to a 3 year old draft on suicide project…