I’ve decided I’ll call this the prologue. There a multitude of things I would prefer to describe it, but to keep it simple I think this is what we'll call it. Many will describe it as “from a dark place” or “unstable” upon first reaction, but I assure you it is of rational, sound mind. I have full control of my faculties. I am normal. I don’t want the things I intend to say to be interpreted or analyzed for ulterior motive. There is none. Take your cliches and go fuck yourself. I sympathize with your loss but your experience doesn’t help. At all. I know you were on the brink. Many were. Many are. Still. We’ve lost many loved ones for senseless, stupid reasons. This time though, as selfish and narcissistic it seems, it’s about me. This particular time and space it is about me. It has to be. It’s all there’s left. There are plenty of things in my decades of accumulation of experience so I’ve decided to amass them here, now and maybe in perpetuity if it helps.
I am probably going to kill myself. Don’t freak out. It happens a lot I’ve heard. Most of you noticed the “probably” and have already decided this is for attention. I sympathize. I’ve been there. We all have. So many of us have dealt with threats of suicide from our loved ones. Many of us have suffered loss as well. If this skepticism compels to dismiss the rest of this, I understand. No hard feelings. I hope the reason you found me compels you to help someone. This is my declaration that an end to my life seems like a viable option nonetheless. I also want to be clear I don’t and won’t cause any physical harm to anyone. I’m not a mass killer. I don’t have blueprints of federal buildings and I’m not a conspiracy theorist. I tended to vote right of center but I’m no Neo-Nazi, fringe lunatic, whatever. I don’t want this to cause any concern for anyone’s safety.
I want this to be raw. Who I am. What I’m thinking. I spent too much time worried about grammar, punctuation, repetition, etc. that I’ve resolved to just “putting it out there’. I want it to be clear, I’m not a professional writer. Not even an aspiring one (though I always had several ideas for books). The quotation marks, the style of writing, is all my own. If it is critiqued in a way that makes it seem ‘professional’, yay me! If it is deemed ignorant, no surprise. Despite the crudeness in delivery, I’ve thought this through rather extensively. I haven’t spent any time or effort researching, investigating or ‘reaching out’ at this present time. This is meant to be a fulfillment of waning intellectual gratification. It’s super taboo to talk about suicide. All of the “victims” of suicide are dead so they can’t be reached for comment. No one ever says the deceased was a real piece of shit. People cry. If it’s dramatic enough of a death, your ‘second cousin-on-your-grandmother’s-neighbor's-church-member-in-the sunday-choir’ will be interviewed on the local news saying there was no sign I would be capable of it. It is probably considered a senseless act by many.
I’ve concluded you’re not likely to convince me to not kill myself. I take the occasional break to smoke and those brief moments I am able to collect my thoughts and remained focused. I have internalized a thorough checklist and am confident I’m at a critical moment. I guess this is the ‘come at me, bro’ moment of my life. The choices we make in life are important. Important enough that every decision should be treated like their last. I’m in the process of making my peace with my “loved ones”. When I’m finished I’ll continue my statement for perpetuity and then make my proposal to the ether. I have just one answer yet to get and this is the purpose of my current “project”.
How long must you wander in the darkness, taking step after step, with no hope the next foot falls on ground? How long do you live hoping there is light ahead? An endless falling into an abyss and it’s met with “just keep walking”, “one foot in front another”, “what about your <insert here>, etc. Hearing the talking points feels so demeaning. What tips the scales in favor of one choice over another when there’s not only no risk but no reward for either choice? Conscious life and suffering versus completion of the attempt we call “life”. Do any of us live forever? When is tolerating suffering worth the ‘smell of the roses’?
So here’s where I am. I am alone. I can count the people in my life on both hands. Why I’m alone is another story. I’m broke. No money and maybe a truck full of personal property. Why I’m broke is another story. I have no options. This is why I’m here. I have one choice left. I want to present my case for both scenarios. Maybe after this the decision will be easier for either or both, who knows? It occurs to me just now that this would’ve been an interesting case study to me haha. Weird that laughing doesn’t have the same power it used to. A lot of stuff feels less powerful now. Oddly, it feels nice to surrender.
I am probably going to kill myself. Don’t freak out. It happens a lot I’ve heard. Most of you noticed the “probably” and have already decided this is for attention. I sympathize. I’ve been there. We all have. So many of us have dealt with threats of suicide from our loved ones. Many of us have suffered loss as well. If this skepticism compels to dismiss the rest of this, I understand. No hard feelings. I hope the reason you found me compels you to help someone. This is my declaration that an end to my life seems like a viable option nonetheless. I also want to be clear I don’t and won’t cause any physical harm to anyone. I’m not a mass killer. I don’t have blueprints of federal buildings and I’m not a conspiracy theorist. I tended to vote right of center but I’m no Neo-Nazi, fringe lunatic, whatever. I don’t want this to cause any concern for anyone’s safety.
I want this to be raw. Who I am. What I’m thinking. I spent too much time worried about grammar, punctuation, repetition, etc. that I’ve resolved to just “putting it out there’. I want it to be clear, I’m not a professional writer. Not even an aspiring one (though I always had several ideas for books). The quotation marks, the style of writing, is all my own. If it is critiqued in a way that makes it seem ‘professional’, yay me! If it is deemed ignorant, no surprise. Despite the crudeness in delivery, I’ve thought this through rather extensively. I haven’t spent any time or effort researching, investigating or ‘reaching out’ at this present time. This is meant to be a fulfillment of waning intellectual gratification. It’s super taboo to talk about suicide. All of the “victims” of suicide are dead so they can’t be reached for comment. No one ever says the deceased was a real piece of shit. People cry. If it’s dramatic enough of a death, your ‘second cousin-on-your-grandmother’s-neighbor's-church-member-in-the sunday-choir’ will be interviewed on the local news saying there was no sign I would be capable of it. It is probably considered a senseless act by many.
I’ve concluded you’re not likely to convince me to not kill myself. I take the occasional break to smoke and those brief moments I am able to collect my thoughts and remained focused. I have internalized a thorough checklist and am confident I’m at a critical moment. I guess this is the ‘come at me, bro’ moment of my life. The choices we make in life are important. Important enough that every decision should be treated like their last. I’m in the process of making my peace with my “loved ones”. When I’m finished I’ll continue my statement for perpetuity and then make my proposal to the ether. I have just one answer yet to get and this is the purpose of my current “project”.
How long must you wander in the darkness, taking step after step, with no hope the next foot falls on ground? How long do you live hoping there is light ahead? An endless falling into an abyss and it’s met with “just keep walking”, “one foot in front another”, “what about your <insert here>, etc. Hearing the talking points feels so demeaning. What tips the scales in favor of one choice over another when there’s not only no risk but no reward for either choice? Conscious life and suffering versus completion of the attempt we call “life”. Do any of us live forever? When is tolerating suffering worth the ‘smell of the roses’?
So here’s where I am. I am alone. I can count the people in my life on both hands. Why I’m alone is another story. I’m broke. No money and maybe a truck full of personal property. Why I’m broke is another story. I have no options. This is why I’m here. I have one choice left. I want to present my case for both scenarios. Maybe after this the decision will be easier for either or both, who knows? It occurs to me just now that this would’ve been an interesting case study to me haha. Weird that laughing doesn’t have the same power it used to. A lot of stuff feels less powerful now. Oddly, it feels nice to surrender.
