Defending suicide

I don't think it's selfish to want to die and trying to commit suicide. Life can be a terrible burden and you know who you're supposed to life for? Yourself. It's your life and not your friends' or your family's lives, it's about you. Living or dying to for your own sake is not selfish, cause everyone is or should be living for themselves and sometimes, when they can't, then they die to save themselves from a fate worse than death.

Because you can't live for your loved ones, and no matter how much I wish that I could, it just doesn't work that way. I'm sorry guys, but if I get suicidal again (which will probably happen sooner or later, it's just how I'm wired) I won't try to stay alive just for you. Because that's no way of living, to go on in terrible pain just because I don't want to cause you pain. Is that even right? Why should I suffer more than you should?

It's because people see it as an active choice, something you just decide to do. Oh my god, I swear to whomever that if I could possibly prove that suicide is not a choice I would eat my own fucking ass. It's not a choice, I wouldn't choose to leave you in terrible grief if I do kill myself, because it's not a fucking choice! It's an act of desperation, pure desperation driven by madness and or incredible sadness. If I was a car, my mental illness would drive it off a cliff.

That is what suicide means to me. You lose everything until you have nothing left and you just let go. Cause you just can't hold on any longer. It's not a choice to drive off a cliff if you have no control over the vehicle. I love that metaphor, I'm gonna hold on to it. But seriously, I don't even know who I think I'm explaining this to. I was just talking about my stolen hospital clothes and then I derailed and ended up defending suicide again.

Am I defending suicide? I never thought about it that way before, but I guess I do. I believe that every living thing and most of all human beings have the right to do whatever they want with their own lives. It's about autonomy, being in control of your own life.

I don't study that much psychology (though I do have quite good general knowledge of it) but I do know a lot about what being suicidal means and what it feels like from the suicidal person's perspective. Because I've been there more times than I can possibly count to ever since I was about 4 years old. I know about every reason to want to die and I validate all of those reasons because that is important. I would never invalidate a person's reason for them wanting to end their life, no matter how stupid that reason might seem to some people.

I mean it, anything. If you broke your toe or failed the math test. If you lost a loved one or fell sick yourself. If you got broken hearted or just ignored by your crush that one day in school. If you're transgender and can't deal with it or because people laugh at you sometimes. If you're hearing voices that never stop bothering you or if couldn't afford that dress you wanted so badly. If you're being bullied or your family situation sucks. I can't possibly list everything, but just so that you get a general idea.

I could go on and on about suicide because I'm practically obsessed by that issue and I've been trying it out just a little bit too much for it to be considered normal. And I try to defend it, apparently, without really knowing how to. It could and has literally been discussed forever if you're talking about history in general. I don't know who were the first famous suicides but it was pretty fucking damn long ago and every culture has it, every country all over the world, there's at least one word for it in every language (Germany has six or seven, if I remember correctly), it's just world wide spread and people have always been disgusted by it, wanted to do it, defended it, prevented it, rejected it, suffered from it, dealt with it and so on and yeez I really can go on forever...

But as I said, I'm only trying to give you my opinion, and I wish people would stop seeing it as an active choice. And I'm really fucking trying to let go of this now, but I think my messed up mind is tying knots in itself again. Go back to the book. Write. Edit. Re-write. Dig your nose into the ocean of text until you can make sense of it. Yup, that's the plan...