I’ve 🐝 bee-n fighting for two years now. I have this « job » that I’ve been stuck with forever now. My inability to enjoy the little things of life is just another indication of my dereliction: hating the bitter man I’m becoming, seeing myself in people I despise, being unable to think, speak, create.
There’s no future for me here. No way out from my work. No time to dedicate to what I love. I read the introduction of Camus’ « L’homme Révolté » about absurdism in other to be something else than a consuming shitty human, and I don’t agree with most of the moral dilemmas: killing yourself is not the same as killing another person. I’m making a choice for myself and maybe, one of the limits of this argument is that I’m imposing my absence on others…
But who might miss me? My family & friends? It’s true, there are the ones that made me stay this long, but nothing is changing, and I need to help myself.
ಥ_ಥ, maybe see you tomorrow ?
Also, no matter how little you think you mean to anyone, it’s going to hurt them.
My friend killed himself back in 1991 and 33 years later, I still think about him at least once a week.
We used to share music so new stuff I hear, I think if he would have liked it. He was an incredible intelligent and astute person so I think about all the insights he might have shared with me.
Most of all, I’ve still no idea why he did it. The ‘daily’ issues he had going on were not insurmountable and despite conversations we had ranging all manner of subjects, there was no indication of him being troubled by deeper issues.
He got a lift into town with his stepdad to collect his bike, went to the top of a car park and jumped off.
No note. No indication. Nothing.