Hope is more or less lethal for the suicidal. You wake up one morning and realize that the joke was on you all along, there was never any hope, you were at the mercy of delusion, the delusion we call hope. The only time I can breathe is when I hear about a suicide. For a few fleeting moments my pain decreases just knowing that somebody else felt the same and just had to go. I would of liked to have known them, known their story, and checked out with them.
I watched a video on YouTube last night featuring a mother, a very brave lady I hasten to add, talking about her daughter’s suicide. She summed up the final moment perfectly with this sentence ” sometime during the night my daughter abandoned all hope”. That’s what it takes to go through with it in the end, the abandonment of all hope. My last attempt was 8 years ago, foolishly I chose the sleeping pill method, a notorious method, notorious by virtue of the fact it seldom works. Why didn’t I go with hanging or jumping? I would of avoided 8 years of hell and be resting in the cemetery instead of writing this. Perhaps on a subconscious level I hadn’t yet abandoned all hope and therefore chose an unreliable method. I’m starting to feel calm now because I know I’ve gone beyond the point of no return, abandoning all hope, and am fully aware that my previous attempts were rehearsals for the real deal. Next time it will be the real deal, there is no other outcome for someone existing without a grain of hope.