Does life have any meaning? What does it all add up to? Why the fuck is anything anything? In the end, does someone’s existence culminate into a crushed and decomposing body at the bottom of the Davenport Cliffs?

I hate that and I hate this. I don’t know this guy and despite my extensive google searching for the last hour, I will never get to know this guy. He’s dead. I don’t know why this affects me so much but it does. I have so many mixed feelings about this subject that I don’t even know if I want to get into it. Fuck it.

Suicide. I guess it’s just a six letter word and not something you should joke about 😉 but honestly, that’s all you can really do at the end of the day. It’s too hard, too exhausting. Wanting to not exist. It’s such a romantic thought. Seductive. Like all of your problems go away and you can finally be at peace. And they would. All of your problems would technically go away. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. You’ve thought about it extensively. Obsessively. You can’t do it in the house because it’ll decrease the property value. You can’t overdose or suffocate from carbon monoxide poisoning because you’d like to donate your organs. You can’t shoot yourself in the head because again organs and you’d want your mom to be able to recognize you after you’re dead. Hanging would probably be the best but you tested different methods but you can’t tie a fucking knot to save your life. Or I guess end it? Who cares you’re dead. You already tried it out. Not for real but just to see if you could. It was actually kind of funny in the most depressing way possible. You got all the supplies for a trial run and the fucking towel hook on your bathroom door broke off and bonked you on the head. And you can’t do it during February or May because that’d be to cliche. Everybody does it then. Or maybe that would be better. You’re not that good at planning ahead obviously. You’d probably do it around the end or beginning of a quarter. That’s when tuition is due and a quarter’s tuition is roughly the same amount as the funeral cost and you don’t want to be a financial burden to your family. You could use that money for school to pay for your funeral. Or I guess your family would have to. Logistics has never been a strength for you. You think about the extensive therapy that you’re family would have to go through. Your parents, your grandparents, your siblings. You’d put so much stress on all of them. No parent should have to bury their child. No grandparent should have to bury their grandchild. Your brother and sister would bear the full weight of knowing that all hope now lies in them. You don’t know if you believe in fate but you have a strong feeling that it is possible that you may or may not eventually do it at some point in your life. You think of life as a story and you don’t exactly know what that entails but you already know how it’s gonna end.

But you can’t do it. You can’t do it to them. You know too much. You force yourself to do the research. You go back to the reddit thread. You read all the self help articles that don’t help the people who have lost a loved one. You know how selfish it is. It’s all you think about. The guilt and shame keep you alive. You can’t die for yourself because you have to live for them. You cling onto hope. Whatever hope you can find. when you can’t find it, you just make it up. You do this and you don’t let it go. You need it. It’s embarrassing but it helps you sleep at night. It helps you get through the day. You cling to ideas. You’re so stuck in your head that the escape let’s you exist in that space and escape it at the same time. You don’t do it because you cling to the hope that you’ll get better. If you work hard enough, write more, learn how to be at peace, you’ll make it. Or at least make it up. You’re not a perfectionist. Guestimation is key when you do this sort of thing. Just be better. In whatever way you can.

Uhhhh but you’re alright. and you don’t really want to talk about it with other people. You’re really hesitant to post this and have been sitting on it for a while. This is the thing you don’t talk about. Too real. Too much. Scares people away. You deal with it everyday so you know how fucking crazy it is. You know that people go through the same shit but this feels too personal. This is your thing. Your pain is yours and only yours. You feel it and you don’t want anyone else to feel it. Sometimes it’s selfish. Sometimes it’s not.

Uhh I don’t know. I want to keep on writing because this one is too heavy. I needed to write this in second person because I needed some degree of separation. I’m fine and don’t want to talk about it with anyone other than my therapist. But I want to post this. If not for someone else who’s going through the same thing, I want to do it for myself. I can’t ignore it or run away from it anymore. I figure if I express it in a healthy way it’ll help me be more at peace with it. But that guy. He makes it easier to fall into the trap again. If he did it, then maybe I can to. He did it and he can never undo it. I don’t know if I can moralize what happened but I hope he was at peace in the end. I think that’s all anyone really ever wants. He did it and he can never undo it. He had a life and chose to do what he had to do. And I know I don’t want to end up like him.

I don’t know. I don’t know. I really just don’t know. This is scary and I know very few people read this but I just don’t know. I’m just gonna publish it. I will honestly forget about it until the next time I want to write.