Disclaimer: If you experience suicidal thoughts or have lost someone to suicide, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.
This world can be a terrible place. Even in all of its moments of beauty, the allure of a full life expectancy can cease to exist within a mind so dreadfully lost. Those are the minds attached to the hands I wish I had enough of to hold.
People who commit suicide are brave, i’ll give them that. Not to glorify the act of killing yourself like every new Netflix Original Series, but there is something to be said about the kinds of people who are at peace with an expiration. They are the same people who look death directly in the eyes and choose it whole-heartedly.
Because nobody just kills themselves on a whim.
Like, “Is this whole milk in my caramel frapp? I asked for soy.”
“Fuck man, the first thirty seconds of this NFL championship game is the pits”
*shot gun to the noggin*
These people had time to think about what not being around to deal with the agony of losing control of their own thoughts may feel like. They are well paid celebrities. They are the quiet ones. They are the “Oh, yea I saw that coming’s”. But most importantly, they are the kinds of people who were looking for a way out, and found it.
There will never be less problems here on earth, just less people who can handle them. When I think of suicide, I often associate it with being selfish. I think about how those who make the decision to exit stage left prematurely, ruin the whole damn production for everybody else. But, who’s really being selfish here? Not my body; not my choice.
Society has taught us to reach out to the people who seem troubled; to have them hear our messages of love and to try and stop them from making a decision that could hurt more than just themselves. What society seems to be forgetting is that I don’t have control over anybody but myself; that my responsibility to others is solely to cultivate a safety net for mental health and open lines of communication in times of struggle. Suicide is not my answer; but if it’s somebody else’s…they aren’t wrong.
I’ll be honest, I’ve never been so deep in the downward spiral of depression that I’ve contemplated not being alive to dispose of the burden. I’ve for sure thought about what kinds of eulogy’s will be spoken at my funeral (I see you guy I blocked after our sushi date in 2015), but that can wait another couple decades of agitation. With that said, after all the pain and unbearable agony that comes with even getting to the point of attempting suicide I hope that if there ever was a need to make the decision to die, that people’s words to describe me wouldn’t include “selfish.”
What’s selfish is the thirty eight minutes I spent trying to talk a friend off of the ledge the other day. I realized half way through the plea for understanding that I barely knew any of the struggles he was going through. I mean, I imagined it had something to do with a failed relationship and a deep-dark sexual assault skeleton in his closet, but what the fuck do I know about his purpose here on earth? I’m not a therapist, I just did what Facebook tells us to do. Watch for trigger posts, reach out with concern….mildly ambush with an intervention.
Committing suicide is a bold move. Maybe not as bold as the font people use to type up the note saying goodbye to the one person who possibly gave a shit, but I guarantee the signature at the bottom of the paper doesn’t belong to a human being writhing with anticipation for how guilty everyone feels about bringing this moment to fruition. Some people like their gift of life, others just want to return it, no cash back…no exchanges. Countless people die everyday by accident and nobody bats an eye, someone purposefully and sometimes thoughtfully (fuck you guy who chooses to bleed out in a rental property bathtub) kills themselves and all of a sudden Robin funny-man Williams is a MONSTER.
I just keep circling back to being pro-choice. Pro-whatever the fuck your heart desires because this is YOUR life and adults don’t get to make decisions for other grown adults. Who better than oneself to decide when to die? Regardless of how I feel about what is right, or who should or shouldn’t feel a certain way, suicide is not my answer, but I’m not here to tell you that it’s not yours.
With that said, moments are often only just that…passable moments. Some of them are dark and painstakingly intolerable and…ugh…frankly I want to insert a bunch of insanely deep Pinterest quotes about hope and change, but if you’re on the edge of contemplation about being here or not being here, there isn’t a damn thing I can say to change your mind. That’s apparent in every single story about the rich celebrities who we thought had enough money to fix their sad’s. If you’re gonna go, go. Know that nobody wants you to. But, do you in the last moments of being a you. Authenticity; the truest form of a proper send off.