Hey guys, Suicidal thoughts have been a big part of my focus for the last few months. Smoking marijuana and journaling, one day a few months ago, I realized a very easy way to shut off my cardio-pulmonary system, and subsequently, my electrical system and brain, in order to cease existing. Like a snowball being rolled up a hill, the idea grew on me, gaining enough mass to crush me and pull me under for some time. Visualizing my plan, occupying my mind with this great end, I blocked all else out. For a while it has seemed like the only option. If for no other reason than I have underachieved in all other life arenas except the solidification of a suicide-plan. Seeking to gain mastery over my own death, I started to research the afterlife. Warned about making a transition while in a painful state or even passing on to some repetitious "Hell", I cowered. Don't I have dominion over when I should die? Torn between deep-rooted belief in a loving God and the freedoms promised by an atheist life without God, I waited. Currently, here is where I'm at: If I succeed in shutting off my physical body for good, will I... A) Completely cease to perceive that I exist, my name carrying on only in the thoughts of others and in my debts left behind, B) Move into a new existence as some spirit, in this dimension, heaven or hell, C) Be reincarnated in another form and place or D) Something else entirely? Thanks to the internet, and the spread of information about spiritual beliefs, dying isn't so simple. Death is a gamble. Indecision and a lack of clarity leads me to delay. What if the consequences of suicide outweigh the consequences of continuing in my human existence? I am 23. My name is Charles. Marijuana addict. Although I don't drink, I have sat in AA meetings for the last three months identifying myself as "Chip, Alcoholic". But that was part of my path to making it here. Clearly I have some disability, whether it's PTSD, Addiction, learning-disabled, autism, some mix of the above and others, which has caused me over time to live a narrower and narrower life. When I was partying in college, or smoking weed in the work force, I felt my possibilities were expanding. Perceptions were widening. But then the partying would tire me out, or I'd burn too many neurotransmitters with the weed, and find myself alone again in a deeper depression than before. Is that life? On and off, off and on? So I've internalized a lot of the stigma I carry, and internally generated even more of it. When I write enough about it, I feel a sense of self-mastery, like I've managed to capture all I need to know. Upon my return to real-time existence, I find myself struggling once again. Something blocks me from just living a life that feels normal. Escaping into the page works for now. I'm proud to have made it here. This is my journey one day at a time to give life a shot. To take some inventory, gain a clear and chronological perspective on who I am and what my life consists of, to overcome the denial of my addictive behaviors and maybe in the long term, to feel better. A new flame of purpose burns, however small, at the prospect that I might take personal responsibility for my own recovery, that there are tools and methods by which I can do so and other people doing the same.