Same thought, different day

So nobody wastes their time, I’ll summarize right away: my life is pretty great, and I think that’s what is pushing me toward suicide.

Enough about me. A while back I read a news story about a girl in Florida I think. She was popular, smart, good family, gorgeous, etc. She went to a Christmas party, and by all her friends’ accounts she had the time of her life. She left the party early, went home and killed herself.

I’ve never felt so in tune with a suicide story. I understand it perfectly which is funny because her entire circle of family, friends and public opinion was full of confusion and disbelief.

Back to me. On Friday night I went out and had one of the best nights of my life. Everything was perfect. On the drive home, with a huge smile still painted across my face, I closed my eyes and floored it across the bridge where every few years some kid loses control of the vehicle, crashes through the wood barrier into the creek and dies.

I heard the tires rattle over the bridge for a while, then hit solid asphalt. Bummer. Didn’t happen. Still smiling, I made it home without becoming the latest story in my town newspaper.

Why are people supposed to have a reason for dying? Nobody seems to have a reason for living, and yet 8 billion people do it every day. If and when I do it, I’m sure they’ll look at my finances (sorry detectives, no debt), my mental history (sorry again, job psychiatric evaluations report consistent averageness), and my personal life (nothing worse than anyone else). They might even make up a conspiracy theory about some secret hidden trauma or whatever. But they’ll never figure it out. Because there’s nothing to figure out. I’m just an ordinary average person who has a good life and is ready to call it quits.