Suicide Is Not An Option - Sunday, November 17, 2024.

I am someone who did not die when I should have died. — ‘Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides' by Anne Carson.

Listening: What Is The Point by Rosetta Stone

Suicide always seemed like salvation, but now I have to come to terms with the fact I will likely live until old age. After my first attempt — the night I should have died — I wasn't sure if I will ever try again. Meds and therapy keep me buoyant against my ocean of misery, but they don't fix the practical problems of my life, the things that most made me want to die. My mindset has changed, but my reality has not. Now I live in conflict, a Janus of suicidal ideation and a hope to live.

As I approach my eighteenth birthday, I face a crossroads: kill myself or keep living. Unfortunately — or fortunately, depending on who is asked — suicide takes a immense amount of willpower stemming from hellish misery that I no longer have access to. I can't kill myself — not unless I plunge back into my old depression, the thing I most dread. Yet I don't want to live — or — perhaps a better way of saying it would be: I don't want to deal with life. Such a statement accurately reflects my very passive suicidal ideation. Maybe if my practical problems were fixed, I wouldn't dread the future — But no such luck exists for me.

I'm just not sure what to do. I'm emotionally exhausted, a fact that only increases when I contemplate the next fifty years ahead. Often I have wished for something, someone, to just kill me, so I won't have the responsibility, the impossibility, to do it myself. Still… I can't. I don't have the willpower. Now… I just don't know what to do.