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!