ON SUICIDE — And the Ignorant Judgment of Others

Reflection from December 18th, 2007 @ Age 26


Ohh I’m so fucking tired of life.  I’m calling Dr. D’Angelo today to get an appointment and go get some more drugs.  I can’t take it anymore.  I woke up today thinking of all those mornings when I was growing up—having to get up out of bed and go to school depressed as hell.  Parents going to work, no time, no time.  No time to breath.  No time to enjoy.  Getting pushed through the system is all.  Going to school, miserable.  Going to gymnastics, miserable.  Competing, miserable.  Holidays, miserable.  It’s so fucking depressing to think about how miserable I’ve been all my life.  And the thing is, yes I’ve been a survivor, and yes I’ve come out on the other side of many trials and tribulations…but for what?  To endure more trials and tribulations?  It hardly seems worth the effort.  You’re damn straight I want to know what the hell I’m living for.  How else can I take all this pain and suffering if I can’t believe there’s some good reason for it all in the end?  It’s been such constant, endless suffering pain.  I don’t know how I can take it much longer.  I’m going to get drugs…legal ones.  Don’t get me started on the ironies of life this morning.  I have to go to work…there’s just no time.  I fucking hate life.  I wonder if I’ll kill myself, and if so, I wonder when.  Sure it would be sad—but would my counterparts that would have to be sad, suffer more in getting over me than I must suffer just to be?  It’s an interesting comparison, and I’d challenge anyone who thinks suicide is selfish to figure the equation.


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