Suicide
December 10th, 2024
Yesterday morning, my grandmother died. It was blaring on my iPhone screen, just blasting away. The light just beamed and beamed and beamed and beamed and beamed.
I went to work yesterday. Ate breakfast. Ate lunch. I didn't feel anything when a product was released today.
I went to work today. Ate breakfast. Ate lunch. In my one-on-one it feels as if my manager wants to rid of me. My grandmother died, so asked for two days off, but he managed to negotiate against me for one. I let up.
I don't have the hard conversations. I don't say the truth. I'm locked behind my two beady eyes like some rat in a prison.
I cried in the parking lot. I just couldn't help but yell. Why the fuck am I here, halfway across the world, when my fucking grandmother just died? My memories of my grandmother, just so distant, just so gone like that? Forever? Just forever and forever gone? What the fuck? I'm just SO FUCKING TIRED. I'M TIRED OF MYSELF. I'M JUST SO FUCKING USELESS AND TIRED OF THIS STUPID SHITTY WORLD WHERE EVERYWHERE I GO AND EVERYTHING I DO I JUST FUCK UP. I'M JUST SO TIRED. WHEN CAN I HAVE MY CHANCE TO BE SOMETHING? WHEN CAN I HAVE MY CHANCE TO JUST DO THINGS RIGHT FOR ONCE? FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I'M JUST SO GODDAMN TIRED OF PRETENDING LIKE I'M OKAY AND I'M STABLE AND WHATEVER. I'M TIRED OF PRETENDING LIKE I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON AND HAVE EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL. I DON'T. I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING UNDER CONTROL. I'M JUST SO FUCKING TIRED OF THIS LIFE.
What's the fucking point of this all? What's the fucking point? All the expectations, the responsibilities, the agony... WHAT IS IT ALL TO BE?
I went home and sat on the balcony. Ninth floor. I looked down. In my life, I've tried to commit suicide twice and failed. Once I took a kitchen knife into the bathroom, sat in a tub, and pierced my throat. I just, couldn't seem to go through with it. The second, I went to the fourth floor of one of the buildings at my college, and looked down. I was about ready to climb over the ledge but a passerby came by, and I couldn't go through with it.
But, for some reason, today, on the ninth floor, looking down, I didn't feel any fear. I didn't feel that shock to my system the first time I had tried this way. There was no fear. There was no doubt, no uncertainty. There was no proactive measure to save my life coming from my subconscious. I could jump without hesitation. I could climb up on that ledge and fall over backwards facing the sky. The stars getting just the tiniest insignificant bit smaller as I fall.
I sat back down after looking out the balcony. I was tired. I was tired of myself. I'm tired of being useless, of falling behind. I was tired of not being able to do my job. I was tired of being useless wherever I go. I was tired of being disliked wherever I go. I'm too tired for suicide.
It seems you were right. Whatever I do, I'm just a fuckup. I'm just one big fuckup phoney.
Mom, do you see me now?