Life is funny

[Fantasma]

You know, life is funny. Sometimes it's cruel, sometimes it's kind. I find it to be almost always beautiful.

Sometimes you are up high on a shaky tree up in the woods, with a rope around your neck just enjoying the view.

Sometimes, you think why couldn't it have been you. Not her, never her. Why couldn't it have been you.

You've never been "worth it", people you tell you you are just because they are nice and beautiful people, as almost everyone is inside.

Maybe you are scared, maybe you are doubting, its hard to tell.

Sometimes, you have to be on top of the world in a beautifu land of flame burned trees giving birth to new life, new hope.

Hope that what comes next, who comes next, can grow beyond you. Can appreciate the beauty and live it every day.

There's anger, and you hope there is hope. Because you're scared. Because things feel out of control. Because you wish it had been different.

I don't know what I will do, and I don't know if I'll still be around.

There are some things I know, we'll meet again. Don't know where, don't know when. But when we do it will be a beauty day.

[LazerMaster5]

This concerns me.

[Fantasma]

Yeah it was intended to be a final farewell, but I'm a coward. Can't even do that right.

To quote a strange movie, "What happens when you fail at suicide?"

 

Do you go home, and pretend like it didn't happen? 

Shall we buy a new guitar?

Shall we drive a more powerful car?

Shall we work straight through the night?

.......with our backs to the wall.

 

[LazerMaster5]

Seek help.

[DrGravitas]

23 minutes ago, Johanna Waya said:

Yeah it was intended to be a final farewell, but I'm a coward. Can't even do that right.

To quote a strange movie, "What happens when you fail at suicide?"

 

Do you go home, and pretend like it didn't happen? 

Shall we buy a new guitar?

Shall we drive a more powerful car?

Shall we work straight through the night?

.......with our backs to the wall.

 

Failure to commit suicide is not cowardice.

[Fossa]

Hey there, shoot me a PM if ya want. I've been having a lot of the same issues, here, even though I may seem goofy and fun-loving, there's a very dark part of me that's always fighting staging pulling the plug. I've held off so far, but I know what you mean, I think: It's like this constant undertow, there ij the background, and one wonders if hey will get pulled under. I was just shelving books by call # here for three hours with my stupid eyes that don't work right, and the monotony was getting to me, so for a while, I just sat on the floor, and read some poems by Anne Sexton, and in an ironic way, felt better.

But this poem struck me, somehow, I think because, I often have so many of these same thoughts, and the older I get, the more I have them, as if time is also running out, to change things: (And so many years of therapy, of meds, of this, that and the other approach to help, to change...and yet????)

Wanting to Die

(Anne Sexton, 1928 - 1974)

Since you ask, most days I cannot remember.

I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage.   

Then the almost unnameable lust returns.

 

Even then I have nothing against life.

I know well the grass blades you mention,   

the furniture you have placed under the sun.

 

But suicides have a special language.

Like carpenters they want to know which tools.

They never ask why build.

 

Twice I have so simply declared myself,   

have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy,   

have taken on his craft, his magic.

 

In this way, heavy and thoughtful,   

warmer than oil or water,

I have rested, drooling at the mouth-hole.

 

I did not think of my body at needle point.

Even the cornea and the leftover urine were gone.   

Suicides have already betrayed the body.

 

Still-born, they don’t always die,

but dazzled, they can’t forget a drug so sweet   

that even children would look on and smile.

 

To thrust all that life under your tongue!—

that, all by itself, becomes a passion.   

Death’s a sad bone; bruised, you’d say,

 

and yet she waits for me, year after year,   

to so delicately undo an old wound,   

to empty my breath from its bad prison.

 

Balanced there, suicides sometimes meet,   

raging at the fruit a pumped-up moon,   

leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss,

 

leaving the page of the book carelessly open,

something unsaid, the phone off the hook

and the love whatever it was, an infection.

Rare footage of her reading, sometime around when she won the Pulitzer, but before she died, obviously:

 

[MissFleece]

[PurpleTail]

Don't do it. Not now. It's the biggest decision one can make in their life. You don't want to rush it.

[Toshabi]

http://suicidepreventionlifeline.org

 

800-273-8255

[Fantasma]

2 hours ago, DrGravitas said:

Failure to commit suicide is not cowardice.

It is for me, maybe not for others. Others having a purpose beyond serving others to stay. Others with the ability to get better.

But for me? I say it is, a special type of cowardice born of my acceptance of failure, bourne upon the wind of truth time and again as I fall further and further from all that is strength, from all that is grace until I become craven like one who had long been lost to the substances they abuse.

I had a chance, to make things right, a chance under a beautiful sun today as the wind blew and the birds sang.... I had a chance to halt my fall with a rope, to perchance not descend to those depths of desperation....

But I am a coward, I am scared. The shadows falling with the night terrified me as a child, so I learned to cry. The idea of my loved ones coming to harm broke my heart, so I learned to fight.

The idea of myself having to face the death of a friend shattered my mind, so with the fragments I created a world for myself filled with people I love.

The reality of gaining sanity is that I have no way to delude myself or hide away the pain inside, so I..... became desperate and driven by the faces that haunt me.

If I live it is not through mercy or strength but weakness and pain.

[Toshabi]

3 hours ago, Johanna Waya said:

It is for me, maybe not for others. Others having a purpose beyond serving others to stay. Others with the ability to get better.

But for me? I say it is, a special type of cowardice born of my acceptance of failure, bourne upon the wind of truth time and again as I fall further and further from all that is strength, from all that is grace until I become craven like one who had long been lost to the substances they abuse.

I had a chance, to make things right, a chance under a beautiful sun today as the wind blew and the birds sang.... I had a chance to halt my fall with a rope, to perchance not descend to those depths of desperation....

But I am a coward, I am scared. The shadows falling with the night terrified me as a child, so I learned to cry. The idea of my loved ones coming to harm broke my heart, so I learned to fight.

The idea of myself having to face the death of a friend shattered my mind, so with the fragments I created a world for myself filled with people I love.

The reality of gaining sanity is that I have no way to delude myself or hide away the pain inside, so I..... became desperate and driven by the faces that haunt me.

If I live it is not through mercy or strength but weakness and pain.

Call that number I posted amigo. It'll do you some good. Ain't everything going to be solved or made better with one phone call, but at least it might shed an ounce of perspective. 

[Eggdodger]

I would definitely talk to the professionals that have read up on all the reasons there are to live; if there are any reasons (and there are), the people on standby on a suicide prevention hotline would know them all.

[Vallium]

In light of recent events she has finally been admitted to a hospital by the police and a coping center, against her wishes since she wouldnt concede and it was a serious matter

 

Im pretty okay with that because there wasnt a damn thing I could do to make her go, it was all on her.

 

 

Shits rough for everyone in these dark times, yo.

Edit: would also like to add that this is a separate event from recent events that happened to exist alongside a lot of others that I am aware of. I wouldnt want people to get the idea that this was a result of something shallow pike furry internet drama.