Once you realize that you have the capacity to end your own life, things will never be the same. You cannot unlearn the desire to kill yourself. That little red button in your brain never goes away, never truly disarms itself. You may eke out a tolerable existence, you may even find some form of lasting happiness, but that button remains waiting to be pressed.
They say suicide is contagious, that if you knew someone who committed suicide, you are also infected, as if it’s some sort of virus. They have it wrong. Suicide, or the power to kill oneself, is nothing more than knowledge. Like learning how to ride a bike, whether by watching others or figuring it out on your own, it becomes imprinted in your memory, and you can never unlearn how to ride a bike.
I have not yet lived a full life. There are so many things I must do before I die. Many are depending on me. If I were a machine, I would say this machine must continue to operate. And yet, I cannot shake the idea of leaving everything unfinished, of writing a tragic ending.
A cop stopped me from killing myself last night. I don’t feel like going into detail, maybe another day. I hate cops, but he was probably the nicest stranger I’ve met in weeks. I managed to convince him that I was just very tired from a long day and not thinking clearly, and that I would head straight home and get some rest (I can be quite good at acting).
No one can save me, at least no one I’ve ever met. They can only delay the inevitable. That little red button is armed and itching inside my skull. There’s only one way to scratch it.
6 comments
You are right. That little red button will always be there. But that doesn’t mean you have to press it. That doesn’t mean you have to give in to the thoughts that bring you to look at that option. That doesn’t mean that you are weak, or that you don’t belong. That little red button can be covered in dust, just like a rusty old bike you may forget you ever rode. There’s more to life than a reluctance to live, there is more to life than staring at the possibilities and eliminating all but one. I won’t say you can ignore the possibility, I cannot. I should be dead. But that doesn’t mean I should focus on the end instead of the journey. Life is gritty, miserable, amazing, beautiful, complicated, and a plethora of other poetic words that I won’t bother to mention. That button was there long before you ever tried to press it, but you can refuse to focus your thoughts on one idea. You can be more than your own regrets, your own sadness and emptiness. You can live life regardless of everything else because you aren’t just a little red button. You’re so much more than that. I hope maybe, you can find a way to look beyond, to see that nothing is or ever will be certain.
Those are inspiring thoughts, and they should be sinking in but tonight I am obsessed with the singular thought of dying. Dying to end the anxiety about dying. Isn’t that ironic? The journey you mentioned has been blocked out. I can’t even remember what led me to this point.
I’m sad to hear that. I know how you feel. When I attempted, there was nothing else. I was so sure I’d die that I willed myself into forgetting. Obsession is powerful, but your mind is even more powerful. I can’t change what is in your head. All I can do is hope that the words my reach you, that you might believe you may have at least one more happy day on this planet. I truly believe, no matter what led you to this point, that you can.
Indeed, once I acquired the little red button, I knew I would always have it. I am grateful to have it.
I am now in the process of letting just one person whom I have chosen show me her best reasons for not pushing the button. At the same time I keep watching for the events that are likely to arise at some future date that will make pushing the button a foregone conclusion.
A guardian angel, isn’t that what we all need? Someone to divert our attention from the button. I vaguely remember having someone like that years ago. Obviously it didn’t last for me. But you should hold onto her, literally, for dear life.
I am committed to keeping on seeing her. She is my therapist. Perhaps she can bring me to alter my life and perceptions to the point that I would never need to resort to the little red button. Time will tell. I hate to admit it but I like the processes she uses and find some pleasure in them. Damn.