This is not intended to be maudlin. If you struggle with the concept of contemplation, you are in the wrong place. You are probably in a lot of the wrong places, figuratively and literally. Knock again when you are ready.
I find it funny that if we are uncomfortable with a concept we get so pathological. “We” are uncomfortable with suicide so reflecting on it becomes terrifying and dangerous. Talking or writing about it, even more so. I can hear them now, “her mind is broken” “something is wrong with her” “oh, dear god what will we do?” It’s silly. Really.
Think of it like this, I am as hideously uncomfortable talking about new-agey spiritual “crap” as some are about suicide. It’s all perspective.
I have pondered the concept, if not the act, throughout my life. In the whirling sensory overload of dramatic instances, in the everyday horror rut of nothing special, and often, in transit.
I have contemplated death in transit as far back as I can remember having memories. As a child, a teen, a young “adult”, and as whatever the hell it is I am now. It occurs to me while writing this that I contemplate suicide while driving and death while riding. It never occurs to me that un-calculated death will occur when I am in control. I wonder what this means.
I often visualize just driving off the path. Steering outside the lines they have forced me inside. This is a common theme in my life; that my existence doesn’t seem to fit inside. I am restless and uncomfortable and nothing feels as though it fits quite right. It’s as though I am wearing a rubber bubble of a suit that is at once too tight and too appallingly large, too abrasive and too annoyingly soft. No buttons or zippers or ties or clasps of any kind. Airless and watertight. Trapped. I am.
As I reflect on the concept of death, I wonder if perpetrators of suicide are simply seeking a metamorphosis rather than an end.
Perhaps I can die a metaphorical death…
In that vein, I decided a suicide note would be an interesting writing exercise. Here is draft one.
To my darlings…
May you live surrounded by love, floating weightlessly in the dream but with your eyes wide open. Not simply awaiting possibility, but fighting for it to your last breath.
Don’t be quick to judge, weigh things. Don’t bear impulsiveness as your cross, but leave space for spontaneity to flourish, it will be worth it. Find a place to reside between these two things, be careful, they are not mutually exclusive and that devil impulsiveness mastered disguise long ago.
Remember, a little vacillation never killed anybody.
Have an inquisitive and independent mind, an empathetic and sincere heart, and a generous and enlightened spirit. These are the things that I believe will bring balance, these are the things I would have liked to have.
Don’t believe the unbelievable. Think with your whole being. If it feels wrong, it is probably wrong, if it feels right, it is probably right. The key is not to fool yourself. Your truth is yours alone, but don’t let it blind you. There is no one truth, no matter what they tell you. We are each of us living a life that only we are living. Accept this and you will have shattered the glass. I wish I had.
Don’t fecklessly accept the fishheads thrown your way, nor discount them on their seeming manifestation. In most things you will find merit, at least a little. Look for it, ponder it… then decide on acceptance or rejection. Don’t confuse acceptance with tolerance. They both have their place, but they are not the same thing.
Strife is inevitable, but don’t just accept it as your due. They will tell you that it is, but they will be wrong. Accept the complexity of all existence. Fear mongers will attempt to dissuade you, distract you, detain you. Accepting complexity is their worst fear. Simplicity is their weapon, their staff of righteousness. Snap it in half.
Be daring and brave and capricious and unmanageable and crazy and frightening and devil may care and wild and generous and don’t take yourself too seriously… at least for one day, in memory of me.
Be happy because, seriously, what if this is all there is? What if you spend your whole and only conscious existence living restless and cramped inside the box society built for you because you were too afraid to punch through the plywood and take a gulp of the outside air that they have sold you is un-breathable? I refuse to believe that it is. If I would have figured that out sooner, I may have had a chance.
Remember that just because I lost this battle doesn’t mean I was not a brilliant strategist. It was only my execution that sucked.
“I’d rather kick myself” – Finn Dodd
To my last love, thank you for that final glimpse of happiness,
I will reside forever beside the water with you.