hunger hurts, but starving works

Demented Impulse of the Heart
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2001-09-03 03:04:58 (UTC)

Thinking suicide.

I've been thinking a lot lately. About suicide. I'm not
so sure if it's even about depression anymore. I just
really don't feel like doing it anymore. Anything. I find
pleasure in absolutely nothing, and that's always been my
take on life--to do what you love. In my eyes, there is
truly no other point.

And I always thought that was a creepy question.

"What's the meaning of life?"

I could never come up with a valuable answer. But I
suppose everyone has their own. And me? Surround yourself
with the people you love, the things you love. Look out
for number one, but don't neglect those who show you
compassion. Find out what you love, and go for it.

And I suppose that's where my problems lie. In that fact
that I've not already found my passion, and I'm too
stubborn to wait for it. Or seek it out, as of now.
Because I'm truly sick of trying. As pessimistic as that
sounds, that's as cheery as I'm going to get.

I think some people are different with their intentions
when it comes to suicide. Some want to end their lives
with the thought of ending their misery in mind. Eternal
peace. Others wish it had only never started, and can't
think of any better way out.

I could live like this. But that's not what life's about.
Only if I'd wanted it, would it be right to move on. But
once you lose your will to live, it really becomes
pointless. Who sits around and waits for a passion to
return? It seems a bit silly. And think about how much
time I'm wasing doing so. The world's already over-
populated. I'd be doing a lot more people a favor than I'd
be hurting.

If I'd simply never existed...It's sad how fine with that I
would be.

And for the first time, I'm really starting to think about
it. Suicide. I want to be gone. Somewhere else. Just
not here. It's gotten old for me very quickly.

So I begin to ponder my method. Pills? Suffocation? A
razor blade, perhaps. Any way, I'm starting to think about
myself less. Just about getting out, now. Mmm. I have no
clue what this thing is, but it's sharp. I'm not sure if I
want to bleed to death, though. I might just come to my
senses at some point, watching the blood trickle down my
arms and whatnot. And that's exactly the opposite of what
I want. Attention.

Although, I must admit, it would be nice to see how
everyone reacts to my departure. I was, for a while, a
depressed, attention-craving teenager who just wanted to be
recognized. Now, well. I think it's just my time to go.
Although, still, I'd like to see how they all take it.
It'd be like..My final home movie.

Hmm. Maybe, maybe, yeah...

::slit::


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