In 2003, on the 4th of July, I tried to kill myself.
from that time:
“I feel pain, and I don’t know where to put it or what to do. I am also SO FUCKING ANGRY that I wanna blow up, tear up, the world sometimes. I am striving not to take that out on the people around me. I am striving for “alone time”. I am striving for…clarity. I cannot make up my mind about anything. Everything I could do now that is good, feels like my second choice in direction, and not a close second either, but a booby prize. And I don’t know if I can do all the things the world wants me to do and that I’m supposed to do, because I feel utterly exhausted even thinking about the smallest thing.”
Mopery! (I know mopery actually means something else.) I was utterly destroyed at the time. I had been in my worst, lowest kind of depression for months, and then began a long protracted breakup as well, that weekend.
It was one of the lowest times of my entire life. I lived through it, and it’s a little fresh today, so I won’t go into too much detail right now. But I will say that I have not tried again, my life has changed for the better, and my ability to weather down times has grown- and that I am glad I survived, and am here.
I wasn’t selfish- I was in pain. I wasn’t a coward- I was at the end of my rope. I know that if you have never been that far down, inside, you don’t understand that. I am glad that you don’t because it really is bad. Suicide, for some people at some times, is like a dog chewing off a leg to escape a trap.
I’m going to spend today, unlike every other year so far- nurturing the crap out of myself, instead of partying with my people. It’s a good day. I’m free, and I’m alive.
You guys, light a firecracker or ten for me. I’ll see you at the next shindig.
my mom says, “It’s not that bad things happen to good people.It’s that good things happen to bad people. That’s what gets me.”