How do we achieve relief, stability, inner peace? I’m so tired. Death is the only answer for me.
It’s a miserable life. The times I have actually gone out with friends in year, I can count them in one hand. It’s work. How could I turn my back and leave when it’s my family, my own blood? How do I live my life when they need help. It’s usually just half day off, not every week, not every month. Rarely. In a year I might have 10 half days off, lets say. What does one do after working for so long? Stay at home and sleep and rest and wish to be dead.
Astra. She’s my star.
At night you lift your head to the sky and gaze at the universe. After days long looking at the floor, you finally see the lights, the stars, and have hope again.
Per aspera ad Astra.
“Do you do anything to make your life better?” She’s accusing me.
“I will, soon.” I would like to see her reaction when I kill myself.
“Let’s wait then.” Mocking me.
I don’t feel like sleeping. I just want to lay in bed and think about anything.
I’ll regret my decision tomorrow.
There’s not really tomorrow when you do not sleep and therefore separate today from tomorrow. It’s just a continuous flow of seconds, minutes and hours.
I’ll regret my decision later.
I’m usually not an impulsive kind of person. If possible I like to think thoroughly. Details are important if one wants to do something well, that’s what differs mediocre to stellar. Or so I think. It’s never that easy anyways.
Bad days are busy days. It’s work, sure. What occupies my mind is never that tho. It’s the thought of my escape plan and I need to think it carefully.
One might say killing yourself is for cowards, for people who do not try. I like to think otherwise. I have this great plan, but it’s not easy. Nothing ever is.
I would like to get killed by someone else, a car accident maybe? Incurable illness, why not. I mean that sounds fantasy to me. Killing yourself is never only about you. What about the smoke trail you leave behind? What about the people you hurt once you’re gone? You’re dead, nothing else matters. Why do I care tho? Even in daily basis I do not like hurting people. I’d rather not ashame my parents tho. I do not want people whispering behind their backs – they were bad parents, they didn’t do enough, they couldn’t tell earlier she needed help – or whatnot. It is embarrassing.
So yeah, that would be my first choice. So here my plan B.
I’m going to fly to a northern country like Norway, find a nice lake, row in the middle of the lake and cut my wrists, maybe enjoy some local snacks and read my favorite book while I wait. Easy like that.
First of all. I need to search a nice lake, then buy plane tickets, look for car rental or maybe bus, whichever is more convenient, like sure I’m going to kill myself, it doesn’t mean I can use all my money or go rob a bank, I’d like to leave something behind. So anyways, travel to said lake or maybe an hotel first. I need to rent a boat. How long can I use the boat? After how long are they going to come ask it back? What if the lake doesn’t have a rental service? I need to buy one there. Use my car to bring it to the lake. How much does a small boat weight???
So, let’s say I made it magically to the center of the lake. I cut my wrists and there is no turning back. How long does it take? How does it feel? Does it hurt? Will my blood accumulate and sink the boat? Once I’m dead, after how long will my body start smelling? What if I poo and pee myself? What about the mosquitoes? Maybe I should have with me my ID, so it’s easier and faster for them to identify me. Do I want to be identified?
It’s a lot of planning and researching and I wanted some help so for the first time I looked on google for the a suicide community forum. It’s not what I had expected tho. Was it naive of me to think they would give suicide tips? Talking from experience maybe? I hoped they had numbers, statistics.
I’m sorry, if it makes you angry reading this. I’m serious. Everyone has their personal hell. We all hurt differently. I know my friend lost her brother. I lost my grandpa and we weren’t even close. Dogs get abandoned and children in Africa starve to death and I still hurt and I still hate my life and I still want to die. Is there a scale to see who’s more miserable and has more right to be sad and hate their life and want to die? That’s not how this works.
Knowing I could let everything behind and not care anymore is the only reason I still endure so much. It’s not forever, I have the power to change that and it’s such a relieving thought.
Maggie Stiefvater is such a great book author and inspiring role model. She so says: “[..]I’ll tell you what I needed to hear. You’ll never make your life like what you need it to as long as you keep suicide on the table as an option. I got no closer to the life I wanted because I wasn’t thinking about life. I was thinking about giving up. I couldn’t even appreciate the clawing journey to a better life, because I kept my suicide options open. That’s neither living nor dying.[..]”
And that’s so true. It’s my only last comforting thought tho.
I’m an abstract concept. I’m no one. I’m flesh. I’m bones. I’m dust and soil. I’m air. I’m despair. I’m nothing.
I only exist in my own imagination.