I was thinking about that yesterday. Not because I was thinking of preparing, but because I wasn’t. I figured that if I found myself tying up loose ends, then I’d get seriously worried about myself, instead just very worried. I spent the morning scaring my wife, though.
But I have no idea what to clear up. Letters, like @marinelife suggested? Never really occurred to me. What can be said? There is no reason convincing enough, and saying it isn’t someone else’s fault is disingenuous. Mostly it’s about loneliness and the pain from being unable to experience love—even if there is some there to experience.
The kids are going to be devastated no matter what. As will, so everyone says, siblings, friends, spouses and parents. No one can understand why you choose to do it. Not even those who follow a similar path. The thing is, if you’re dead, you can’t see what impact your suicide has. So I never saw why people use that as an argument against it.
I think that if you live, it has to be for yourself. For whatever it is that has kept you alive so far. For the possibility that the pain will end in other ways. Or that you’ll find love in other ways.
Although, it occurs to me, when I feel bad, there’s nothing I want so much as to feel worse and worse and worse, because given the shit I’ve already given to people, and seeing as how selfish I am, I really should be punished much more than this. If I die, I won’t be able to be properly punished. That probably sounds crazy to most people, but it makes sense to me.
Of course, you could also curl up in a ball and stare at a wall for a few weeks. It’s more fun if you do in alone in an apartment where no one bugs you to get up. I want an apartment. Sort of. That’s what I was talking to my wife about this morning. I know if I got one, things would get a lot worse for me, and that is sounding quite attractive at the moment. I know now I’m never going to get what I want or feel the way I really want to feel. It’s hard facing that, and the fact that I have no chance any more. Just a halfway life to lead.
I feel awful. That’s the truth of it. I should go off somewhere and not bother anyone, and instead I’m here worrying people. I’m so…... never mind. I’ll stop whining now and maybe go pound a fingernail off with a hammer. (not really—I just like the image).
Wanna know another weird thought? Asking for help disqualifies me from actually deserving help. Fuck it.