I’ve gone through it all so many times in my head, I do think I’d be prepared, but I am not ready, never have been, as illustrated by my consistently disappointing attempts at suicide, more so when I was younger, but not so many years ago, too.
There’s, fortunately, enough for me here not to be ready, instincts fight back, the mind finds a way to end in a satisfying enough compromise for whatever acute drives me there at the time. But since I’ve gone far enough on many of those occasions, I’ve done a lot of both mental and emotional work to be prepared, I’m happy with how my life is and has been, I wouldn’t feel like I miss anything, or I didn’t get to do all I wanted. I have. The important bits, that is. All the rest are just nice little things to do while I’m stuck here.
I was never suicidal in the bitter or angry sense. I’ve always just been simply too tired to bear everything life brings. It’s just too much and not worth it in my mind. But apparently my subconscious thinks otherwise. Which is fine. It’s a beautiful world, for the most part people are amazing and full of light, the nature just fills your soul with joy and a sense of wonder, animals are just so impossibly adorable to observe from afar, some from close enough that their excitement and love just rubs into me, too.
It’s all good, but not worth all the rest of it. It’s just way too tiring. Makes you empty and drained on a daily basis. There’s so much love and beauty, but not enough time, not enough resources, not enough anything to really reach them in a consistent enough basis, so you fight and you fight, you bear through everything to get there more often, and it’s simply not enough. It’s not worth it. I’d rather cease to exist and be blissfully oblivious to all of it. And be happy I got the time I did with it all. It was beautiful, in part, and it was so endearing, in part, but I’d rather leave it at that, smile and fade away to nothingness, away from all the toil and effort it takes to barely reach anything.
So in a conscious sense I’m all prepared, I’ve even gone and talked my friends and family through all this, so they’d be prepared too, so there wouldn’t be any threads left hanging. It’s all wrapped up nicely in a beautiful, happy little bundle, that should let me join eternity in peace, with a smile. I’d even like to think I’m ready, but in practice, I’ve had to come to accept my subconscious self simply doesn’t agree. Every time it feels like it does, finally, and I go through all the song and dance, and at the last minute, it halts my hand and makes me back off. Sometimes so bitterly close to release.
So I can’t really say I’m ready, even though I feel ready. Have felt for a very long time. Decades.
But I’m happy enough to remain here. It’s still a beautiful world. People, animals, nature are still so full or wonder and love. It feels barely worth it, I’d even say not worth it really, but the subconscious self has its own evaluation which doesn’t line up so nicely with mine. But I guess I should be happy about it, since while each and every day brings further drain, more burden, heavier a weight on my shoulders, it also adds up slowly to the pile of beauty and love and light and all. Not in a bearable ratio, in my mind, but who am I to question my subconscious. It’s still beauty, love and light. I’ll take it, if I have to, and I’ll cling to it all for sense of self and purpose.
Once I get to go, I’ll be all the more relieved, the more the burdens grow and the eyes tire. And the pile of beauty and love will have grown a bit bigger.
I’ve gone through it all so many times in my head, I do think I’d be prepared, but I am not ready, never have been, as illustrated by my consistently disappointing attempts at suicide, more so when I was younger, but not so many years ago, too.
There’s, fortunately, enough for me here not to be ready, instincts fight back, the mind finds a way to end in a satisfying enough compromise for whatever acute drives me there at the time. But since I’ve gone far enough on many of those occasions, I’ve done a lot of both mental and emotional work to be prepared, I’m happy with how my life is and has been, I wouldn’t feel like I miss anything, or I didn’t get to do all I wanted. I have. The important bits, that is. All the rest are just nice little things to do while I’m stuck here.
I was never suicidal in the bitter or angry sense. I’ve always just been simply too tired to bear everything life brings. It’s just too much and not worth it in my mind. But apparently my subconscious thinks otherwise. Which is fine. It’s a beautiful world, for the most part people are amazing and full of light, the nature just fills your soul with joy and a sense of wonder, animals are just so impossibly adorable to observe from afar, some from close enough that their excitement and love just rubs into me, too.
It’s all good, but not worth all the rest of it. It’s just way too tiring. Makes you empty and drained on a daily basis. There’s so much love and beauty, but not enough time, not enough resources, not enough anything to really reach them in a consistent enough basis, so you fight and you fight, you bear through everything to get there more often, and it’s simply not enough. It’s not worth it. I’d rather cease to exist and be blissfully oblivious to all of it. And be happy I got the time I did with it all. It was beautiful, in part, and it was so endearing, in part, but I’d rather leave it at that, smile and fade away to nothingness, away from all the toil and effort it takes to barely reach anything.
So in a conscious sense I’m all prepared, I’ve even gone and talked my friends and family through all this, so they’d be prepared too, so there wouldn’t be any threads left hanging. It’s all wrapped up nicely in a beautiful, happy little bundle, that should let me join eternity in peace, with a smile. I’d even like to think I’m ready, but in practice, I’ve had to come to accept my subconscious self simply doesn’t agree. Every time it feels like it does, finally, and I go through all the song and dance, and at the last minute, it halts my hand and makes me back off. Sometimes so bitterly close to release.
So I can’t really say I’m ready, even though I feel ready. Have felt for a very long time. Decades.
But I’m happy enough to remain here. It’s still a beautiful world. People, animals, nature are still so full or wonder and love. It feels barely worth it, I’d even say not worth it really, but the subconscious self has its own evaluation which doesn’t line up so nicely with mine. But I guess I should be happy about it, since while each and every day brings further drain, more burden, heavier a weight on my shoulders, it also adds up slowly to the pile of beauty and love and light and all. Not in a bearable ratio, in my mind, but who am I to question my subconscious. It’s still beauty, love and light. I’ll take it, if I have to, and I’ll cling to it all for sense of self and purpose.
Once I get to go, I’ll be all the more relieved, the more the burdens grow and the eyes tire. And the pile of beauty and love will have grown a bit bigger.