Suicide.

No doubt, it’s a touchy subject with anyone, especially those who’ve experienced it firsthand. Numerous times, I’ve had people uniquely open up to me, with, “I haven’t told anyone this... but I used to be suicidal.” How is one supposed to respond to that? one may ask. With care, understanding, sympathy or empathy? My reaction is generally one of “Oh. Ok,” accompanied by a feeling of, ‘Who cares?’ I’ve been there. I know how incredibly horrible it can be, and, in some cases, how liberating.

Let me explain.

Again I stress, suicide is definitely a heavy subject. Controversial even. And when trying to console someone who is currently dealing with suicidal feelings, it seems you have to walk on eggshells. Don’t want to say the wrong thing and make them do it for sure. Fuck that, I say. “It’s the pussy way out. You’re fucking weak if you actually consider suicide as an escape route.” Yup. I’ve thought that, too. In some ways, that opinion still stands. Suicide isn’t what it should be.

I was suicidal. Hell, I’ve had some major altercations with Mr. Depression for years. That’s right. I’m an “experienced” suicidal. *laughs* The younger you are, the easier it is to bounce back. Hah. The younger you are, the more Depression has the capability to rip you to shreds, especially if you’re not sure of or content with your identity.

There are different types of suicide: 1. There’s no other way out. There’s no other choice. Everything, (a.k.a. Life), is just to much to handle. Can’t do it. Let’s give up. End it all. End the pain. 2. The World would be better off without me. I’m pathetic. I’m worthless. All I do is bring pain and suffering to others. Yep, better off without me.

((Serious contemplation of what is actually going to happen should follow those. True, it’s easier said than done if in that situation though.))

I realized something when I was about twelve. I’d had suicidal thoughts before. Hell, since then I’ve honestly pondered the various ways of doing it. I came to one conclusion on all of them — whether you choose drowning, hanging, gun to the head, puncturing major arteries, jumping from [really] high places — if it’s not your time to die, chances are that you won’t. Wouldn’t it just be that much more depressing if you felt like such a failure, decided suicide was the cure, and then failed at that? Yeah. Fucked up notion, huh? You could easily end up paralyzed, mentally retarded for the rest of your life, but you’re still alive! (Haha, life shits on you again). Your previous predicament(s) then seem petty in comparison, don’t you think?

How do you know whether or not it’s your “time to die”? Ask yourself one question, “Have I fulfilled my purpose in life?” If you can’t answer that, you haven’t. Trust me, you’ll know it if you truly have.

I digress. The one time that suicide was the absolute most appealing (as perfect as it ever EVER could be), is when I realized... Everything was okay. I was happy, content-as-hell, with all I’d been through, all I was, and everything around me. I was genuinely OK. I could’ve died happy. And why the hell would anyone want to die any other way?

I. Was. No. Longer. Afraid. Of. Death. And if you’re no longer afraid of death, you’re not really afraid of anything, are you? THAT, is ultimate liberation. Once the fear of death is removed, you can do anything. (Just don’t get carried away — consequences still exist. I know, how unfortunate.)

Remember, your death should be for YOU. If you’re going to die, do it for yourself, not for others. Which is exactly the same way you should live.


Depression’s a bastard. (No, honestly, I met his [single] mom). He’s a tricky motherfucker. Just when you think you’ve conquered it, he comes up with vicious and conniving new ways to Fuck, You, Up. In my experience, never goes away. And pills are a joke. They don’t fix it. They can’t make him go away. That’s a laugh if you believe that shit. All they do is sedate you, let you see what “normal” is like. (Of course, what the fuck is “normal” anyway?) The rest is up to you.

Don’t get me wrong though. Depression only has that much power if you let him. He’ll take the power from you, don’t get me wrong, but fighting with everything you’ve got left just might save you.



Change of Subject!

Love. Oh, jesus, another infinitely confusing topic. What are the answers? Are there any real, set-in-stone answers? Of course you get the cliche “only if you ask the right questions.”

How do you know whether or not you should truly be with someone? Whether or not you should stay with them, spend the rest of your life with them even. There are some good questions to ask. Hooray. Quotes are always a good way to gain perspective on just about any subject.

When asked, “How do you do it — stay married for eighty years?” a professor replied, “I come up with a new reason to love her every single day.” Can you do that?

“Relationships are a bitch.” Duh. “You don’t want to hurt the other person, because you care about them.” But you don’t want to hurt yourself either. “You know you’ve really found someone when you can be okay with them hurting you.” It’s the little things, that build up... Can you be okay with their mistakes, with their faults, even if they hurt you?

Are you in it for the right reasons? Don’t stay with them for fear of hurting them. That (fairly obviously) will only hurt them worse farther down the road, and you’ll be hurting yourself, too.

Probably could go into that topic much more thoroughly, including more epiphanies. But hey, I bet you can understand how draining that subject is. Also, epiphanies tend to slip away quicker by the minute... Kind of like the sense you get watching an hourglass. Just watch the sand disappear into the other half...


Epiphanies that end in liberation, are the sweetest things in existence.


Thus, I have a hell of a lot of thinking to do, on many different things that I’m dealing with right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you do, too.


So goodnight.
Sweet dreams.
And happy nightmares.