I had no respect for people who try and/or succeed killing themselves. I was young and full of teenage angst and most of the time I found little pleasures in boozing and other mischiefs that relatively kept me afloat but  have gotten me in a lot of trouble. I liked living back then, I didn’t understand anyone who had any reason to die… It just was such a foreign idea for me… until two years ago, when the burning rage was doused and I was left with the feeling of being lost. I had moved out from my dysfunctional family and there was no more room for hate. Anger turned into apathy. Then I found that mostly my youth was spent in hating my family, making my parents miserable and ruining my life in the process. But then after all was said and then I found that I had done nothing for myself. My acads were fucked, there was no bright future. Just empty, meaningless life. I had nothing. No anger to fuel me. No dreams to pursuit. Just existing. It was fucking horrifying.

I got married. It was one of those things that was all daring. I should have thought about it more, now that I think about it. I hate how I have shackled F to this ticking time bomb. F could have had more fun. It was stupid. I should have stopped her/him, I love her/him more than this. Well, s/he had been wonderful and s/he was patient enough to let me find something to live for, a dream that I was never allowed to have. And s/he told me that I could be whatever I want to be, so now I try… Sometimes, I do think s/he regrets this. I am sorry. I’m a fucking leech. I saw this photo of us when we were 18, so young, so vibrant. I had that fuck-the-world glow and beside me was her/him whom had the same. It was funny how s/he turned into an adult on me, I didn’t see that coming really…

So when do I get to the suicide part? Well, the suicide part comes after several months on anti-aggression meds. They were all herbal, and legal if you’re worried. But yeah, after it doused the fire of my anger, I felt (pun intended) put out. Like I had nothing to live for. I was empty… and pursuing a dream becomes pointless. The painful part was that I knew the only person who I was living for would be better off without me. Freedom from the shackles of marriage. Freedom to find someone better. Someone whole. I wanted to take all my money, leave a suicide note and go away. Far away where s/he doesn’t need to fucking deal with funeral costs. I want to tell her/him s/he had been the best person I knew that s/he doesn’t have to look for me. That all he had to know was that I was already dead and nothing else matters.

I want to disappear. Cease to exist. It would be beautiful. If I can I want to die in a rainforest, just no fuss, no audience. In Ecuador they have these fucking trees that’re taller than buildings. I want to try flying. Not the shitty fly on an aircraft kind… I want to jump from the tallest tree and die trying to fly. I would fail. It would be gruesome but that hardly matters. I want to disappear after. Just cease to exist.

I don’t believe in hell, I don’t believe in heaven either. I don’t believe in the eternal soul. I just think that death is complete and irreversible. The end, how wonderful.

Perhaps, it is being weak to choose to die. I mean, I see it as the grand escape. The fire exit from hell that we call life. The exit to the dramatic spectacle. The end of struggle. I dunno, I just think it would be awesome.

I’m selfish, I don’t want anyone to think this way. I just do. When I think of death I feel this thrill pass through me… the only thing that I think I’m living for is her/him… I need to do something for her/him before I go. My last huzzah. I want to live until I’m fifty, maybe I could do something for myself along the way. Like a book for example, but mostly I live for F I think. I want to let her/him find his dream before I go. I want him to take something from this highly destructive relationship. I live for her/him, so in the end s/he doesn’t feel like s/he had drawn the shortest straw.

The closest I’ve been to killing myself was stand on a building’s rooftop. I don’t like that bleeding to death shit. I just want to try to fly, you know? But the problem with the flying part is you know it such an irreversible idea. I don’t want an audience. What if I turn tail? That would be embarrassing. I think killing one’s self takes balls. I had someone I knew who blew his head off at a gasoline station. Such an idiot, that one, what if he caused an explosion? Good god.

The odd thing is I still do believe in God. That higher being. But I hardly think he would begrudge me death. I mean, why? If He was just leanding life, isn’t it okay to give it back? I mean, he plans to take it away anyway… why can’t I return it earlier? I don’t want a heaven, that would be another meaningless existence. I just want to cease to exist. Painless inexistence. Gad. That would be wonderful.

So, don’t fuss for me, if you reached this far. I won’t kill myself for now. But I really want to… I want to have that choice to meet death, I wont wait until he comes fetch me.

I don’t want anyone thinking this way, it’s just me. I shouldn’t say this, in the event that I turn into someone convincing…  There’s someone there who I know who wants to kill herself. I don’t want you to, I like you. I really do, I’m such a creeper. But don’t kill yourself… you know, I feel for you. I do. Life’s such a fucking bitch really… but don’t do it. I don’t even know why… I think I’m being selfish. I want you in my life. I like the meaningless shit we shared. We haven’t talked in a while but I do hold that hope that maybe I do get to meet you one day and we can be friends. I dunno, I really like you. Don’t do it.