My Suicide Note #003

Dear God by Dax

I have been told that the previous two parts of this series don’t really deserve the title given to them. Maybe they don’t but I am trying to bring to you this visual image of a person contemplating suicide. It’s not always a bad day for them, just as it’s never all smiles and laughter for anyone anywhere anytime all the time. It is a recurrent consecutive batallion of thoughts that instantaneously wash over them and the brain switches to its only way of coping with such a situation for them; SUICIDE. I just hope that in this next part, THAT perspective will be vividly depicted. Thank you. Have a good read.

I am melancholic, cowardly, psychotic even, according to common social standards. Life to me is a bittersweet experience of wishful bliss and hard core reality. Searching deep into the depths of my purpose as a living existing being, I see nothing but a bleak, bland future, not worth all the hassle I put myself through daily. As I look down to the ground from the 21st floor of this magnificent building, I don’t see the splendour of the distant horizon, nor the majestic nature of the buildings surrounding me. All I see and get drawn to, is gravity. Oh! how I long to feel free, light as a jacaranda seed floating through eternity. And the means to get there, Oh! how beautiful. The swish of air brushing fast across skin and cloth. The sense of awareness that freedom is rapidly approaching. The brain freeze from shock effecting a nervous breakdown. The inexplicably loud bang in the street as skull meets tarmac. The splatter of brain accross the black asphalt street. The screams of the women walking by as they frantically ask for help and anyone to call the ambulance. The ebony black surrounding, akin to my soul, finally consuming and enveloping me in the rarest realms of darkness. I am home now. HOME AT LAST!!

If I were to pick the day to die, I’d most definitely pick the happiest day of my life. Problem is, I’m really not sure what day it is or might be. Maybe it might be the day the love of my life decides to walk the aisle to me in holy matrimony. Or even the day a friend decides to take me out on a date having realized that depression was slowly sucking me into its horrendous depths. Maybe it would be the day I finally completed my degree successfully and hold a party for my classmates. It could be the day I get my first salary and decide to take my family on a shopping spree. Most of all it could be the day I succumb to illness and all around me my loved ones (meaning NOBODY. Just the stillness of the air, the gentle breeze fanning my blue-black face, my lips parched and dry and sodium pentobarbital in the drip slowly seeping into my arm) showing their love to me for the last time as the reality of my demise sets in and the electrocardiogram (EKG) beeps alerting the nurses that I am heading to my final destination. The land of peace and absolute bliss. Where my dreams like many others go, never to be actualized. It is a rich place, this place. Billions even gazillions of taxpayers dollars could be utilized for the greater good using this endless sea of brilliant minds that couldn’t cope with the expectations of a mediocre world. Where they were expected to fit in, join a crew, be a member and work as a “teamplayer”. All this work to build something great for the world, to engrave their names in the hearts and books of the world. To be read about. To have their work revelled about and appreciated by the masses, only for the fruits of their labour to be stolen from their very own hands going to those stronger than them. More influencial, with greater means. The greatest minds always surely fall to suicide. Not necessarily physical death, but the death of the mind. The lack of will to fight the good fight. The inability to pick up the shards of their broken, shattered souls. The end of faith in profane humanity and finally, the END of faith in ONESELF! Pure DEATH!!

The world is an unfair place. We hear that alot every now and then yet we never really try and figure out what, is the source of all this ‘madness’. Vindictive, hateful, unfeeling, unforgiving. That is the very character portrayed by the very creator we very often appraise and associate unconditional LOVE to. But why? Are all we humans so blind to the fact that our dark loathesome natures came from Him? Hidden somewhere beneath the facade of love and worship to the all mighty creator of heaven, earth and all therein. Logically speaking, prevention is better than cure. And it’s easier to alleviate a potential threat rather than deal with the problem once it arises. I suppose that was actually, the inital intention of the formation and recruitment of operatives under the banner of the F.B.I. Is humanity far much wiser than its source? Why would our omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent God decide to expose His dearest, most prized creation to the guiles and threats of harm, i.e. SIN? Given, it is the one and only thing that He detests? Do we agree that these are the actions of a being that really shows love? Unconditional Love? In this case it is conditional. “Obey me unquestioningly, trusting me to fulfil the promises I have made unto thee…” This surely sounds like a conditional statement to me. “If my people which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land. 2 Chronicles 7:14.” I’m sure we all learnt grammar at one point in time. If statements always imply conditions to be met before a certain thing is done. Is that the loving God we rely on? Forgive me dear Lord, if the words I utter are a profanity towards you. All I want are absolutely concrete answers to my numerous questions racing through my mind in a cacophony and I can do to ease it a tad bit is this helluv rant!!

Goodbye pain. Goodbye suffering. Goodbye doubt. Goodbye disappontment. Goodbye hopelessness. Peace and nothingness, here I come. Hug me, pull me close, snuggle me as I scoot over and embrace me with your ever so pleasant ‘sleep’. Never let me go, deny me the torment of a breathing living soul, for my coal black heart is hackneyed from the frequent exertion. Comment tu fais la mort. Como haces la muerte. как ты делаешь смерть.!!!


By: K3ysp3rk©


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