I have researched and read that jumping from a great height is the most effective method of suicide this side of shooting yourself with a shotgun. Yet I worry about the people who might find me: what if it’s some little kid who is then traumatized for life, because of what I did. That would be jacked up.
I recently watched the documentary, The Bridge; it was about suicides from the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco over about a year. The film has been both praised as illuminating and criticized as exploitative. The only thing I know is that, as effective suicide rates go, jumping from a great height (“from a greeaaaaattttteeee height”, as Radiohead would put it) is highly successful. We have a local bridge in PA that has a higher clearance the the GGB. Now more than ever I want to jump from it.
When I was a kid, there was a popular book called the Big Joke Game; in it, a devil-like creature guided a kid through a life-size board game. This little piece of existentialism affected me. It was probably my first realization that life can be nothing more than a Big Joke, a game that some malevolent creator made to toy with humans. I want out every single day. I feel ashamed, then I am embarrassed that I have spent much of my life thinking about ending that very life. Yet I didn’t ask to be born; why shouldn’t I decide when I die?
I am 45 years old; I gather that I have thought about ending my life since the age of about nine. Never mind that most “normal” kids never think about killing themselves ever. To ponder suicide on a regular basis since you were in grade school seems a burden that no God should place on a person.
I have no will to accomplish anything. I feel very little except disgust about myself. Counseling rarely helps; I am such a people-pleaser that I seek to say whatever I think will make my counselor feel he/she has done a good job for the day. That’s jacked up, I […]