Recently the depression has really been picking up and the desire to just end everything has gotten so much stronger.. I’ve been thinking a lot about the consequences of suicide and just feeling awful about it.
It’s like bang – gone – no more pain – rebirth or silence but at least escape – but then the thoughts of my family at my funeral, the friends who I have made future promises too, people I love and know I would hurt… Why does an act that ultimetely reflects a life long struggle and is truly personal have such a ripple effect? Why can’t I end my own pain without hurting others?
I do not want to leave my brothers empty like that. Or my mom so broken. But the big problem is that I either can’t or just am unwilling to adjust and conform to a world that is so fucked up and chained. I can’t understand it but can’t escape this life. Why would I want to contribute to this society? Why would I want to be a part of all this bullshit? Why would I want to slave at a desk for the daylight hours just so I can have two days off by the end? If I’m lucky? All so that by the end of 50 years, when my cartilage is ground to my bone, I can sit on a mortgaged property two feet from an identical house – proclaiming, I am free?
In the end death is liberty. Unchained from this broken life, this ugly body, away from this tortured land, I dream of my soul finally escaping into the peaceful abyss of silence and nothingness. Maybe if life is suffering, death is escape. I just wish there weren’t so many consequences.