(Sorry to make a personal thread, I usually despise them myself)
[Note to reader: please do not look for coherency or contradictions in my thoughts; it’s an honest account, and I am unable to reconcile them]
Suicide… Ah, what a desition! I’m not just jumping into it (pun intended; chose to jump of a big bridge near my house), but I have given it some serious contemplation. The emotional pain fluctuates, so that is not what’s driving me over. It’s just that I can’t handle existence any longer. Can’t handle the suffering, of mine and of others. Can’t handle looking into the mirror and seeing the terrible sight of myself reflected back.
Think of it this way, its better of for the whole that those of us unequipped to handle life, those of us depressed and suffering, kill themselves. Of what use is our existence?–to cause everyone else more suffering? Let those who can handle life, live. Let them love life and cherish life. My death is not so meaningless for them, for it gives reason for them to cherish and value life more. Sure it’s absurd. But it’s even more absurd to go on with this absurdity!
Philosopically, I went from theism to nihlism. Nietzsche is wrong, the death of God does bring about nihlism. But this is only enough to encourage me to think that once I die, I die! I don’t care for any judgements of my desition–it’s an emotional one. And no reason can argue with my pain. This is the concrete effect and tradgedy of losing faith (for those of you who like to theorize and live in the world of the abstract; these ideas have very significant consequences and I hope everyone always keeps that in mind whenever engaging in philosophy).
The problem is to let go of hope. Hope… is false hope (for me). I shall always suffer upon this wretched planet. I know myself too well, and anyone that can ever truly know me will know this about me; therefore, love – as a means of salvation – is impossible.
I am weak willed, unequipped to handle life, as I just stated; I am miserable and making everyone around me miserable. I am isolated, a coward, and suffering. My value shall only be made known when I am no more – a very appealing thought at the moment, though, I realize there soon will be no one to think it.
Well, I don’t want to make my departure too long. Farewell to you brave ones who still challenge and confront this shit of a world. I will contemplate my desition a bit further, but I am rather sure my mind is made up. That much is sure, when I say I’ll do something I do it. I am at the unfortunate point where only some type of miracle may save me; some form of grace, but I doubt it very much. I’ve lived 20 years and have become cynical enough.
Cursed is existence, cursed are we! I’ve decided to kill myself within the next 2-3 weeks. If in three weeks time I haven’t (I think it shall come about much sooner within the next few days. I know I said 2-3 weeks but that’s an optimistic estimate; one must be aware of the duality within) then I’ll have courtesy enough to make a post as to why I haven’t (If a reason may be found). So you see, perhaps I am not completly without hope yet, but it is waning and waning fast. The hope is foolish of course. Imagine, to hope that something outside me can change me – who can change me but me? No, I doubt very much that I’ll make a response here in three weeks. That is precisly why I make this thread, for I consider the case allready closed, in fact, I am allready dead. That’s right, isn’t that something?
Think about it, I’m sitting here writing this, and yet, very shortly, I’ll be gone; so really, I’m allready dead. If you read this a month from the day it’s written then your reading a validated suicide note. Here I am one min., gone the next. Absurdity, I know! It ridiculous! But I like being the one dead. I prefer to be the dead writer then the live reader.
As a dead man, I wish I had something profound to say – I really do. Alas, I don’t have anything profound to say. No difference. I only wish this, I wish there would have been someone on this earth who would have been willing to accept my love. But I’ve found myself in a NO EXIT situation; Not currently, just the preceding years of my life. No, do not be foolish enough to think that I would kill myself over failure at love. It is the culmination of everything. In one word: despair.
Farwell, brave men and women, farwell.