My relationship with Suicide

The way I saw my life for over 15 years is that my life here was given to me as a punishment. Now, this can be quite a thing to say since I have a family and more that despite their glitches love me and keep trying.

I had my partners, who tried to understand and be there even in the moments it would’ve been better to burn me as a witch. I have more people, friends, and relatives who didn’t quite get it at first but I think they are trying very hard to support one another these days and I give them praise for that.

I have my closest friends who I neglect regularly and don’t communicate with but they somehow still answer if I send them a message, which makes me cry sometimes because I figured they had moved on and forgot about the cold uncaring bastard that is me.

So what is this about suicide then?

With all these people around me who care and seriously don’t want me to suffer.

I hope you never have to feel the pain that pushes even the best of us to want out. To the point where the only thing to think of is ”Please, just make it stop”. When the tears don’t come out anymore and that choking black hole in one’s chest just keeps growing and devouring more space for itself.

This life is a punishment for me. Why else would I be in pain for almost every day of every week of every year?

Once I woke up in a horrible state and opened my eyes and the only thing I could think of was that there are at least 10 sharp objects to kill myself with even before I make it to breakfast and that’s not including the kitchen area. You know, blades, kunai, scissors, pens, glass, mirrors, all the good things. I got to shower and at some point, I woke up to a very vivid image of the water at my feet just turning into this steady stream of blood. How easy would it be?

That went on for most of the day. I snapped at people many, many times. I kept myself away from anything sharp. I didn’t move from my little gaming nest in front of the PS4. And then at some point, I think I cried. I couldn’t tell you because I don’t remember much. There was no reason behind it. Just pain and the whispering demons showing me how free I would be if I did it.

Thing is. I’ve tried it in the past. Several times.

But every time it’s like some random god decided to fuck me over and tell me ” Oh no girl that’s not for you to decide”. And so it is not an option. Call me crazy or delusional and all the things normal people would do but the end of the line between me and a permanent Game Over is that I think it is not worth the torture cause some divine pixie won’t let me anyway I’d say that’s a neat little trade-off.

I watched this TED talk about a guy one day. He spoke about it. How he stood on a bridge, the only thing in his mind being how far he would have to jump not to hit a fence that was down there somewhere. I could relate to it.

People shouldn’t be so stupid and angry when it comes to those that are forced down that road. Cause hell, I bet they tried. Most of us do anyway. Sometimes it just isn’t enough and then there are some idiots on that bridge shouting ”Do it!” like it’s some sort of a circus freak show for their amusement.

It’s a calm place though.

That moment between the dead set decision and the act is very calm. For the TED guy, it was a moment of finally being in control. For me, it was the thought of finally being free.

That’s what death meant to me. It was my ticket out of this prison where nobody actually gives a shit and everyone just tries to get benefit to themselves and fuck the rest of the world over with their petty hatred and hurt egos.

I know I know, some people care. They try their best with whatever they’ve got. Still, people die. Rich, poor, elderly, children. Weirdos and queers and the straighteners too. They are in the same abyss of an ocean I’m drowning in. I’m not alone here.

If you pass someone by in that dinghy of yours please pick them up. Give them some understanding and listen. Because oh boy you have no idea what’s it like down there.

Or at least I hope you don’t.