I used to write suicide notes in an attempt to explain the to people around me just why I wanted to die, but nothing I could say would ever satisfy anyone.
Nobody would ever go, “Oh, I get it now and good for you deciding to die! Good luck!”
It just doesn’t work like that and every time, even people who despise you will call police or 911 if for no other reason than to get the ‘I called’ brownie points. They want the credit for saving a life even if they could care less about you and your problems.
On the flip side perhaps there are people who truly care and don’t want you to die. Good for them ,but it it’s not a big help when it comes to dying.
Anyway, the next time I think I want to die there will be no notes, no explanations, no begging for forgiveness, no note to the big spooky in the sky, just my dead corpse and lots of unanswered questions. I’ve tried too many times to explain the whole thing and nobody understood then. There were just more questions I could never explain and accusations of blame and selfishness and how by my taking my own life I was only making their lives harder. I hate to break the bad news, but it was never about them in the first place . It was, and always will be about my own inability to find a reason to want to keep on living.
So , no notes, no explanations, no attempts to ease your guilt, just me and my desire to end my life. You want answers? Ask now because there will be none after I’m gone .
4 comments
I don’t know why, but I felt a sense of being at ease while reading your post. It could just as easily be your suicide note.
I just felt that suicide is just like any other act, like brushing your teeth in the morning, or pooping, etc. I felt this while reading your post
They’re just people, you know. I guess it’s all your philosophical point of view. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. But, I agree with you on the “brownie” points. In my case, people who will call on me are usuallly the ones who talk the most “sh*t” on me behind my back or even sometimes to my face.
I don’t see the point in leaving notes. I write them for myself to read. Then destroy them.
I never understood how prolonging an unwanted existence came to be called saving a life (complete with brownie points).