Three weeks ago, on July 4th, I published a good-bye post here as I prepared to take my life. Obviously, I didn’t do it.
To be blunt, I chickened out. After postponing for two days due to rain, I just lost my nerve. I was afraid of the pain. I planned to hang myself, and the pain of asphyxiation terrified me. Of course, I was afraid of death itself as well. Even when the death was my choice, I still feared it.
I’m planning to try it again. I’ve found a painless way to do it this time, which will be ready in a few days. Yet, once again, I find myself afraid to die. This morning I looked at my face in the mirror, musing that pretty soon I will never smile, laugh, or frown again. I got scared! Then I got angry at myself for getting scared, because I know my reasons are sound.
It’s a sick joke isn’t it? To hate living but fear dying.
This time around I aim to act according to my head, not my heart. Like all men, my heart will always fear dying. When face-to-face with death, the heart will always say “What are you doing just standing there? Get the hell out of here!”.
Failing that, in fear it will desperately try to bide time, begging and pleading, invoking panic and doubt. “What if you tried __, huh? You’ve never tried that. Maybe that would fix things! Also haven’t written a suicide note to ___! You have to do that! This will hurt really bad anyway, let’s just watch TV!”
Last time I relented to that voice, and to the terror. Yet, when my blood cooled, I knew what I know now — that my suicide will be a good thing. An act of mercy. I really do believe that.
I doubt anyone in my life will see it that way though. I doubt any of them knows or appreciates just how much struggle and suffering permeates my 25 years on Earth. Its mostly been shitty and its never been okay.
Over and over I’ve worked toward the hope that it will be okay one day. But, to be honest, I haven’t made any real progress. I’m glad I did try so hard though. I wouldn’t want to go out without a fight.
So please spare me the “don’t do it, it will get better” crap in the comments. I know they’re well intentioned, but fuck off. I’m not here to be talked off the ledge. There will always be a chance at things getting better. But after what I’ve been through? I’m not prepared to make that bet anymore.
I guess I’m just here to make my thoughts concrete. Writing for an audience can have that effect. I’m glad there’s a place for me to do this anonymously. Thanks for reading!
6 comments
Also, I would like to thank each of you that wished me well last time around! You warmed my heart for what I thought was going to be the last time.
I can relate, though my fear focuses on who would miss me, which is a shocking amount of people given my lack of prospects. I guess that I remain in wonder of what might be around the corner. Not a better day, I’m old and tired enough to let go of that one. What if it is more interesting, maybe even productive pain.
Go if it is the desire of your heart. Far too many dreams are dashed, someone deserves to achieve what they set out to. You want to go? Go. I wish I could say it to more people outside of this forum. Life is just kind of there. Sometimes it cons you back in for a few weeks, a few months, a few years. The pain, the scars, some of those will never go away.
I don’t particularly think talking off the edge works. What does is identifying the key issues. If it is physical pain, I can report that the right drugs sometimes work. Same goes for generalized emotional pain. Yet, if there is something you want to be, but can’t, there is no cure for that agony with the exception of getting so high you can’t remember being a human. That’s the road I’m on tonight. Small comforts, but they keep me from casting off and fading into the unknown.
When I think of leaving people behind like this, there’s only one person that I care about, my best friend. She’s already lost so much. A few years ago, both her mother and stepfather committed suicide, and her close friend was murdered not long after. How can I add to this list? The guilt weighs on me.
I want to tell her about my plan so she’s not blindsided by it, for what that’s worth. But I don’t know if I’m prepared to trust her not to tell anyone. If she told my family, or the police, that would just ruin everything. Yet still, the guilt weighs on me.
Thank you for giving me your blessing. It’s such a gift to hear that for once. Thanks.
Genuinely, good job sticking it out as long as you have. You lived a good life, you did well.
Thank you! I really have, despite it all. I know how much I’ve overcome just to be here today. God bless you, fare well.
i’m really hoping You’re still here : (