Tuesday, January 27, 2015

I Think a Lot About Death, Part 2: The Earnest Edition

"It’s ironic that sad eyes are usually depicted in drawings as tiny smiles over eyes."

As I walked home from work after a particularly long, physically and mentally strenuous workday, I couldn’t avert my stare from the ground. It was as if the weight of the world, of life, pressed down on my head and would not, could not allow me to raise my head and look forward. It’s happened to me before, very recently and very often. I am also often purposely over dramatic.

And before I start on my privileged-first-world-life rant, I know that I don’t have it as bad as many other people, but I don’t think despair discriminates.

I've written about death before, and that time a friend accused it of being a glorified advertisement for my book about, well, death, but this post will be a tad more earnest. Not that my last post about death wasn’t earnest, but I did try to stay positive for positivity's sake, just in case a potential reader of mine would stumble upon that post and think, “I’m not going to read anything by someone this morbid and disturbed.” Of course, when I thought that I didn’t take into account what the subject matter of my first story was. It would then, in fact, be appropriate for me to be a little morbid and disturbed. But now I doubt how many other people, besides the odd (literally) friend here and there, actually read my blog, so I feel a little freer to keep it more forthcoming this time around.

But I do think about death a lot, mostly about ways to reach it. I’m not in any rush, per say, but I do have feelings of general hopelessness that I feel can only be wiped away by offing myself. But, there are reasons why I haven’t done so yet. Let’s go down the list of a couple of the most common ways to do it, shall we:

Death by Hanging: I live in a box, a metaphorical one as well, but I mean it literally. My room does resemble a box and I don’t have many fixtures where I could comfortably hang a noose. I do have a ceiling fan but I don’t think it would support my weight. Not that I’m especially fat, but it doesn’t look like a structurally strong fixture. I’d just end up with a broken ankle at best. Besides, I’m half black and it just seems disrespectful to my ancestors and a tad bit too ironic to take myself out in that manner.

Death by Wrist Cutting and Pill Popping: I don’t know, that just seems like a too juvenile and teenaged way of courting attention. I think the 35-year-old equivalent of pubescent attention seeking is to write a blog post about suicide…

Death by Jumping from High Structures: I’m deathly (PUN!) afraid of heights, so there goes that idea.

Death by Stepping out into Traffic: It just seems a little messy. And if it goes wrong it could leave me paralyzed, unable to try other ways, which would just prove to be counter productive if that was the case.

Death by Auto-erotic Asphyxiation: Let’s just say my mother is lucky that restricting the flow of air to my brain fails to sexually arouse me. I never thought I’d ever write a sentence like that.

Death by Shooting Oneself: I consider myself a pretty liberal guy, and as such I, for the most part, abhor firearms in cases of uses other than filmed fiction. There also seems to be a lengthy background checking process that just seems tiresome. Arguably it would be the last process I would have to go through, but I’m still too lazy to go through all that trouble.

So, the real reason I don’t remove myself from all this perhaps misperceived misery is just simple, good old-fashioned human fear mixed with general human laziness. That, and there’s a new Star Wars on the horizon and there’s now way I can miss that.
But, I jest.

The real reason I don’t do anything brash, as I alluded to previously, is that I believe that my self-induced passing would cause family members and several friends considerable premature emotional distress. Which, I guess, is both weirdly narcissistic, as it suggests that I think everybody cannot bear to be without me because I’m so awesome, and, strangely self-less, as I don’t want to cause anyone emotional pain because of my selfishness, just in case anyone does hold affinity for me.

People have told me I need professional help to ease me through all the mental anguish, and today as I suppressed an urge to irrationally throw a large amount of boiled eggs on the wall in public, I am now forced to believe them. On the other hand, maybe I just spend too much time by myself.

But, as I said, there’s new Star Wars to be seen so, at the very least, I’m fairly confident I‘ll make it to the end of 2015.

And I apologize if this just seemed like cheap ploy for attention––it may very well be––but it is truly what I’m feeling at the moment.


  1. Death by Hanging: Yeah, fuck that nonsense. Like you, I would end up just causing damage to my apartment more than anything else. The scar would look cool though.

    Death by Wrist Cutting and Pill Popping: Wrist cutting is fine if you're a fed up housewife or teenage girl. A grown ass man doing that who is not in prison is weak. As for pill popping...my brother tried it. I suggest you not.

    Death by Jumping from High Structures: I have a fear of heights but love being up high on roller coasters and worked in a building on the 55th floor. I have heard too many stories of jumpers surviving and being wrecked or regretting it the moment they jumped. I recently wrote a story about a jumper.

    Death by Stepping out into Traffic: That is a total dick move. Someone minding their business going about their day and your goofy ass just ruins their life. I think this when someone leaps in front of a train and the conductor is in therapy for the rest of their life.

    Death by Auto-erotic Asphyxiation: You really wanna be found that way? Be the most ashamed ghost ever at best and the guy that was found after he became a stain in someone's ceiling at worst.

    Death by Shooting Oneself: Not guaranteed to work. You'd end up looking like Arseface from Preacher.

    Like you I use goals to keep plugging along. I have to see all the new Marvel films coming out and/or get my junk touched at least one more time.

  2. Death by jumping off a tall building would be my method. Pretty quick, low chance of failurure leaving you paralyzed (choose a tall building) and you get a nice little adrenaline boost right before. Bonus points if you yell "i am batman!" as youre falling.

    Ive actually been going through some darker days in recent years too (gogo quarter life crisis), and not entirely out of the woods but getting better. Im not religious so never saw any greater purpose... Which kinda does render everything we do pointless, especially when you factor the inevitable sun blowing up and eradicating our entire specie and everything we build some day (or more likely our own nukes). But after fighting for meaning i finally accepted the inherent pointlessness of everything and realized it gives you a good amount of freedom to truly choose your own goals in life (as they are all equally pointless so none is inherently more valuable) and not second guess yourself or wonder if youve "worked enough" to let yourself be happy - after all enjoying yourself is the only real purpose left with all else being vapid (which does not instantly mean being arrogantly selfish). Ironically my nonreligiousness actually helped keep me going since, with no afterlife, these mere 100 years is ALL we get. So might as well make the best of it, its not like youll get a refund if you cut it short.

    But maybe im just preaching and youre hopelessness stems from different reasons. I know it sounds like simplistic feelgood advice but again it took me months (if not years) to get to that point and im still not anywhere close to being happy go lucky.

    Well this shit is getting too deep for a blog comment. Hmm how about death by bike? I love biking, seems only fitting...