(not this week again, merely me coming to terms with what happened previously)
Suicide - what a crock of shit. Whichever moron came up with the phrase 'Suicide is Painless' needs to be removed from this planet immediately. Suicide is Pointless = FACT. I have never committed suicide, kind of obvious by the fact that I am not DEAD. Suicide + success = DEAD. Not alive anymore = DEAD. Death = Not Good on the Life-ter scale.
Kind of a pattern here don't you think?!!!!!!!
Why bring this subject up now? Because another person I cared for and respected, lost that respect when they followed the Yellow Prick Road. For fucks sake, if life sucks so bad, bugger off to another country or continent and become someone else. Don't call me, don't speak to me, whatever - just don't have the police coming round to inform me that you have taken your own life. It's not fucking clever. Send me chocolates from Brazil with an anonymous note saying "Fuck you - having a great time on the beach".
I used to enjoy, whilst at University and arriving back at the Halls of Residence to meet up with fellow inmates for late night pizza, kebabs or whatever, throwing in the question "Is suicide brave or stupid?". At the end of a night it was fun to provoke such discussions and then I'd step back to watch the arguments. That was before I had encountered the other side of suicide - i.e. what is left behind. The devastation wrought on friends, family and communities. Then all one is left with are the memories of fun together, the misgivings of missing what was too late to fix and the inability to change things. I am Goth, not god.
Meanwhile, after death, the remaining families and friends have to bear the anguish for the rest of their lives.
The first time this suicide shite touched my life, I had to deal with the girlfriend who found the body. Her boyfriend, my friend, had hung himself using a door (not going to explain the logistics to be on the safe side). She had arrived at his place as he couldn't be reached on the phone and after eventually pushing the door open, found her boyfriend dead. The fact that she had to force the door in order to access the room, only to find that what had been pushing against her was her boyfriends dead body left somewhat of a mental impression on her. Sufficient to stop her from opening any door in the future without mentally recreating her horrid discovery.
Now, this shite is becoming slightly tedious. Enough already. Phone the Samaritans, talk to someone. Fuck me, these people are volunteers who are just manning the phones to listen, for no charge, without being condescending to listen to your issues. If it's that bad, call them. Don't become a statistic, don't think you are alone - you're not. Of course, if you're reading this you aren't suicidal (well, you might be afterwards). In the words of Sir Steven of Tyler - "Don't get mad - get even".
Don't take your own life as a message to god, stamp on some pretty flowers or something. But, and this is a BIG BUT, if you are determined to kill yourself, at least have the decency to a) do it successfully b) don't know me or vice versa before you do and c) just take yourself out of the human equation please. Killing other people, who didn't actually want to die at the time, but do because of your fucked up views will not enamour yourself with any of the gods I hang out with. Trust me, the 'secretaries of the gods' have instructions "if it's a suicide, just send them down under".
I have lost friends, family and others to this disease. I wish I knew the anti-dote, I really wish I did. I guess the beginning from the non-suicidal side is JUST LISTEN. From the suicidal side - JUST TALK It might be too late if you don't.