How to Die?

There is a point when you realize you are going to die. Not from any disease or from an accident but by your own hand. That point in my life came a long time ago and that is not a bad thing. Some people think it is but the right to die is the only thing that you actually control. I realize that the people around me would be better off without me in their lives and I realize that I will never be a complete functioning person.

People say that there are things to live for but there really isn’t. There is no point to it.

I have read thousands of questions that boil down to one thing, I am in pain, how do I stop it. Search for something like “How do I commit suicide?” or “How do I die?” and you will find hundreds of people asking this question. The truth is those who are thinking about it are suffering. Yes, this is a bad thing and suicide is not the answer to most questions, until it is.

I am not going to say don’t do it, nor am I going to say that is the answer, because it is a personal choice. I have always said that suicide is the solution when the pain out weighs the ability to cope. Unfortunately this happens. It is fact and no one seems to admit that sometimes this is the answer. I am not talking about when you are a teenager and want attention or when your boyfriend breaks up with you, or when someone close to you dies. I am talking about when there is some much pain that you can’t see a way out. When you know that things will only get worse or worse yet stay the same and there is no answer to when it will stop. I am talking about when there is no end in sight and not likely to be one without killing yourself.

How many people have you asked for an answer and the only one that they could give you is that time heals, but time can’t heal something that has always been wrong. If you try things will get better… they say this not knowing how hard you’ve tried or what you have gone through to make it stop.

So sometimes you carver yourself up with a razor or engage in dangerous behavior because it gives you a moment of relief and no one can take that away. That is your choice. No one else’s just as the choice to end your suffering is yours.

Now here most people would tell you it’s okay it will get better or all you have to do is seek help and you will be okay. But it is never okay and it never gets better and every time you try one of their suggestions it only gets worse but you still try. Some say pray to god and he/she/it will help but when you pray there is no answer. When you take their drugs it doesn’t help it just makes you sleepy or angry or worse yet apathetic. When pain is all there is all you want to do is to make it stop.

Unfortunately because of liability I can’t tell you how to die. I wish I could because there are several ways that are very effective but that all depends on how you want to die. All of the people who tell you, you don’t have to and there is something to live for are not living your life. A life that only looks bleak and only gets worse and the only end you can see is misery and then eventual death with no one around and no one who cares because truly most people only care about themselves. They don’t care that you are suffering, they don’t care that you would do anything to stop it or that no matter what it is not going to get better. I am sure there will be people who will say no don’t do it. I have found that these people don’t get it.

They don’t understand that there is nothing that makes it better and very little that doesn’t make it worse. In my opinion you deserve the right to die, you deserve a way to make it stop. We euthanize animals that are in pain and suffering why not people. I don’t understand it anymore than they understand the need to make it stop before something worse than an neat suicide.

There are several things in my life that will only get worse. It will happen and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it will. I will be trapped even more so than I am now. There are options with a little research and perseverance. It only takes a bit of abstract research. For all of those that find this know at least there is one person that understands it and won’t give you platitudes about how it gets better when you talk to someone or that everything will change with this drug or that. It’s a constant struggle that you will go through. They don’t get it because they have never felt it.

I am one of those people who just wants it to stop. I think constantly about a car accident, they happen everyday or a killer that just happens to find me. I have even offered an open invitation to anyone who wants to kill me and do me a favor. Unless you know what that is like don’t give meaningless advice. Chances are if you are serious about dying drugs, therapy, or changes in your life won’t stop you from feeling the darkness. I know this was rambling and ultimately depressing but the fact is there are people out there that are better off dead. I am one of them, not that I am ready yet but I will be soon. People break and there is nothing you can do to stop them.

As always feel free to comment and tell me what you think. I will revisit this subject soon, but tonight I am just too damn tired of those who preach without ever knowing that it is not going to help.

 

And I leave you with this for those who like it:

jason

Moral Calculus

It is funny that people respond more to the rehashed photos and sayings that I include rather than what I am actually saying. This happens here as well as in reality. What is really funny about the whole thing is my soul is being flayed alive in a parody of hell on earth. Don’t worry I don’t feel it anymore.

Not even the fact that I went from being relatively OK and dealing with it to a full blown psycho in the space of weeks seems to bother anyone. Maybe that’s because I hide well in every realm but here and the world that used to live inside my head. The true difference between a psychopath and a sociopath is that one doesn’t feel the difference between right and wrong and the other knows the difference and just doesn’t care. Which do you think I am becoming?

How long can a person not feel before they become amoral. Pain teaches us what to avoid or in my case what feels the best. It is how I cope with all of the other stuff sometimes through sex or on the edge of a knife. Without pain we don’t avoid the things we normally would. Yes, I am more than a little bit insane but I am good at seeing things for what they really are. I am above all else honest with myself and others to a fault. It gets me into trouble more often than not.

It is not that I don’t know it hurts others it is I just don’t care. I know that on some level I should and I once did but that was in the endless stretch of time that I fondly classify as before. What is really ironic is the same thing that makes me so ruthless as makes me more capable. Faster, harder, more calculating than I ever was even at my best. Most noticeable is that my aim is better and in speaking, writing, hunting, and fighting I am much sharper and everything is clearer now that I am not fettered by emotion or empathy. I sleep less, eat less, drink less, and am generally vibrating with adrenaline all the time. I can make practical logical choices despite the consequences to other people.

I am finding that there are a lot of things that are unneeded and most people do things that are just contrary all the time. Sometimes what I say is mistaken for malice but for the most part it is because I just don’t understand why it bothers them. I should and I am sure I used to but its just not there anymore. Is this better? If you look at it in terms of efficiency it seems so or would if it were not so very wrong. I could very easily become the killer that I always knew was inside me and is probably buried deep inside us all. I introduced myself to that particular darkness a long time ago. So here is the equation which is greater the need to kill or the fact that I used to think it was wrong even if I knew they deserved to die. Its simple math or it should be. Shouldn’t it?

I am watching, standing back as little bits of my soul are flayed and have long since given up praying for it to stop. I can hear the bits that once made me who I am shrieking in pain as they are torn, shredded and tortured until there is nothing left and I have to admit its beautiful, much like pain is, or the razors edge is.

I know the damage I do to myself is viewed as wrong but I don’t care
I know that I am just wrong and have gone so far from OK that even I can see it but I can’t seem to bring myself to care
I know that what I am thinking probably enough to get me locked up or worse but it doesn’t bother me anymore
It probably should
I know that I am searching for something but I don’t know what or what will happen when I find it
I know I crossed a line somewhere and I did it on purpose and I don’t care that I did
I know after they tried to help I became different, something new and they didn’t care

They played in my head once too often, their own private sandbox, prodding because I am an unusual case, tearing things up with their clumsy fumbling. They thought they were helping, making me face something without realizing that I already had. Never thinking that it would turn me into something dark, desperate, and hungry. It isn’t facing something that’s the issue I already knew what was down there. They just let it out. I would say god help me but god help them is more appropriate.

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There is Nothing Again

In the past weeks I have tried to write honestly I have. Unfortunately everything seems to be coming out just wrong. It is like I can no longer use writing to articulate what is in my head and even the world inside me seems bleaker than normal. I can still see it, it is still there but I no longer live there. I am no longer a part of my own world. It is like looking through glass frosted over by wicked cold letting me see but not feel anything but a cold that not even my world contained. Anyone who is wondering about that world is welcome to read, more than a few posts contain glimpses of that world.

It’s like having a limb severed, being able to see it, but not feel it, not touch it. Not be a part of it. One wouldn’t expect it but it is quite painful actually. To not be in touch with something that has tortured me so beautifully, leaving me twisted and broken. It is much like not being able to touch the one that can twist you into a wonderfully broken thing and make your mind fly apart with the sheer ecstasy of it. Yeah you know who I mean. Only this is worse. That person is just a person, outside and at times replaceable. This is a part of me.

“Will it let me back in,” is the only question that I can ask because it is no longer my choice. They think that banishing the darkness with pharmaceuticals is the only way I will be free. What I don’t tell them is I like the darkness, enjoy it, it makes me whole, without it I am a ghost locked inside myself. I can’t feel, I can’t write, I can’t laugh, love, or breath. Stealing a part of me is something only a lover should do.

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On Being Alone

There are a lot of truths about me that I am fine with being alone is one of them. I hope those who read this add their own.

1. I am fine with being alone. I like it, need it, cringe without it. Many don’t understand that I don’t need someone there with me on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis. I particularly don’t need a boyfriend or girlfriend to validate me.

2. I get more accomplished when there is no one around.

3. I like to eat alone because I can read or simply enjoy the food without having to make conversation.

4. I like to go to movies alone. I can hog the drink and popcorn. I can enjoy the movie without someone judging me for what I am watching or what I think about it.

5. I don’t care if people see me alone. I really don’t care what they think. When they try to keep me company because I am alone and must need it it just keeps me from enjoying the activity I am doing.

6. I don’t think a woman alone has a problem, no friends, or is lonely.

7. Please don’t touch me. I don’t like it when you do. It is not that I am inhuman I just don’t want your hand on me. I don’t feel an obligation to put my hand on you. I don’t want to be hugged or comforted I might be alone but I am not lonely.

8. If it looks like I am doing something I probably am, leave me alone. This is a big one for people who interrupt my reading, eating, or working time.

9. I am not lonely. Alone does not equal lonely please don’t assume it does.

10. I am not in the market for a husband, boyfriend, partner, or lover. I do not need someone to complete me I am complete all on my own.

These are all things about me that people have mentioned or done. Some of them drive me crazy (like I am not there already). Society tries to dictate what I should feel when I am not with someone and it makes me cringe because it is just not me. Just because I happen to be alone it does not make me lonely.

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The Clowns are chewing away in the most painfully unpleasant fashion

A hate has been rising up in me. It started as a slow burn that only twinged a little bit. You know the feeling when you see, do, or have done to you something that is only slightly unjust. It can be pried out of you with a kind word or happy thought. If it is not excised it continues to grow into a burning, a torturous heat with hard edge. It can still be cut from your heart by pure unadulterated lust and the wonderfully rough sex that comes with it. The kind of physical contact that leaves you sore and aching in the morning because you both have taken the hate out on each other and are better for it. This is the kind of fucking that most people only engage in once or twice and think that it is adventurous. The kind where the participants have no idea how close they’ve come to tearing each other apart.

It wandered into the territory of a bright flame as it grew. The hard edge to it becoming a bludgeon working further into my soul. Twisting into it like something wrong and painful. Although much harder to do because the edges of the heart are torn and bruised it can still be torn from the body, but only by using another as you are used in a visceral meeting of the two sexes. The kind of fucking that not many know and others think they’ve gone insane to engage in. The kind where you rip into the other person taking pain and pleasure instead of just giving it.

Then it turned to a roaring fire as it continued to grow. The edge to it is no longer hard but sharp as it shreds the heart piercing the soul before pulling out again only to ram back in. The only way to extinguish it is bloody and painful and kept quiet in the dark.

Finally the flames of the fire turned dark as it consumed me until it wasn’t a fire at all anymore just a burning hatred that echoes up from my eviscerated soul. A wealth of it pours off of me causing even the most oblivious of people to shy away. A darkness so deep and black that to rip it from me would tear apart what little is left. So entwined in what is me it would pull out my very soul. Still it burns deep inside leaving bladed teeth marks wherever it touches.

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I Want – an ongoing story

Although writing is nothing new to me I only indulge in playing with fiction once in a while. Please please tell me what you think about the beginning I would really like a critique.

I wanted to say that it would be ok and that you were going to be just fine as I had so many times before. You looked so scared, sad, and alone. I wanted reach up and brush the hair out of your eyes. I knew it would only slip back down again but at least I could feel the silken strands between my fingers and I always loved that feeling.

I wanted to say that there was nothing to fear that it was safe, that you would be safe but looking in to those beautiful blue pools, whose black centers almost took over. They were wide and one could dive into one of those pools and wind up sinking into the inky darkness that was your pupil. The cerulean iris, just a ring around obsidian, you were scared.

I wanted to say not for me, never be scared for me, but I was too busy drowning to speak. Your strong arms grip me loosely as if I am made of thinly blown glass that would shatter in your hands.

I wanted to say don’t worry about breaking me, I was already shattered into a thousand pieces before heaven and hell and certainly before now. Something broken, something that cannot be put back together, no matter how much you try.

I wanted to say that I was still here, despite the fact that my arms fell limply to the side like broken tree limbs. Only your arm around me was keeping me from lying in the ever spread red pool underneath me. I vaguely wondered what it was my brain to tired to realize what it actually was.

I wanted to say I would be warm as long as you kept holding me. I would never get cold with you wrapped around me one arm around my back holding me up and the other cradled behind my head. You were desperately trying to evaluate the damage and still hold me close.

I wanted to say that I appreciated that just like I appreciate all that you do for me. I wanted to shake my head at that moment as my heart that normally beats only for you was no longer beating in time with yours. God how I wanted to close my eyes and turn my head if only to escape the pain in your eyes.

I wanted to say that none of this was your fault despite the fact that I knew you blamed yourself for it and would for a very long time. I wanted to hold you as close as you were holding me. Your tears sliding track across your dirt streaked face only to slide down mine as you rested your forehead against my forehead like we did when we were kids. To anyone outside it may have looked like we were both crying but for some reason I wasn’t.

I wanted to say I loved you

I wanted to say run as the thing that brought this all on crept up behind you. I wanted to scream it as it lowered its deadly horn and casually lined it up with your heart. I wanted to push you out of the way I wanted to do anything to stop this but…

Random bits of writing

Pulling into a nearby truck stop he looked around with eyes that were not exactly his and not exactly sane. Finding a one at the truck stop wasn’t difficult, since he got back he could feel them. It was almost like it was a part of him. Right now the pull was so strong he barely could conceal his need.

“Can I help you with something?” He asked the blond standing just inside the door. The blond was just passably pretty.

“Sure sugar,” It replied with a smile.

“Wouldn’t you rather have something else?” Jared grinned, this was way too easy.

“What did you have in mind sugar,” she dropped her voice into an almost sexy southern drawl.

Jared grinned a lopsided grin that he knew was irresistible before grabbing her hand and leading her towards the bathrooms at the back of the bar. Too easy, he thought, Way too easy.” She allowed him to lead her undoubtedly thinking of him as her next victim.

They entered the truck stops only bathroom. The smells struck Jared immediately, piss and various other substances he didn’t want to know about assailed him. Without preamble he pushed her up against the wall his hands pushing her skirt up around her waist. He reached for the knife at his back and grinned at her wickedly.

“A bad boy huh?” she smiled at him still not understanding. He slid the knife under her panties slicing them cleanly from her body. He didn’t really want her. He wanted someone he could never have. The blond ground against him as her panties fell to the floor. He shivered thoughts of Morgan shimmering through his mind making him rock hard. He unzipped his jeans with his free hand and hoisted her up against the wall. He entered her quickly, roughly. She just laughed taking his length into her. Jared began to rock against her their bodies making a wet sound along with the thud of her hips against the wall he held her too. He grinned as she rode him squealing at the sensation. His other hand came up the knife still gleaming wickedly. He put it against her throat so it bit into her flesh with each thrust of his body into hers.

“Like it rough?” she asked not realizing that the knife was cutting into her with each movement until she felt the cold length of it pressing into her throat. Jared continued to pound into her his eyes clouding over with bloodlust as he watched the dark red liquid slide down her neck staining her white blouse. He leaned forward to lap at the wound. There was something darkly erotic about sucking the blood from the slit he’d made. The knife dropped and clattered to the floor as he leaned in tasting her, his teeth making marks as he sucked at the wound widening it. The blond began to feel his blunt teeth she tried desperately to move his head away from the wound. He continued to move inside her warmth spreading through his body as he lapped greedily at the blood not caring that he was now tearing into her neck.

His arm came up his hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing as she began to make pained noises. He dug his teeth into her shoulder trying to find purchase on her blood slicked skin. His hand tightened into a punishing grip, the blond gasped and tried to pull away as he pounded into her his teeth finally breaking the skin on her shoulder.

“You!” she whispered through his constricting grip. He leaned back for a moment never losing rhythm as he fucked her.

“Yes, me.” He stated simply pausing for only a moment to watch her terror filled eyes. So nice, the wicked thing that was the voice in his head whispered More, it pleaded and he was all too happy to comply as the power rushed through him. He began to concentrate on his movements as he slammed into her cracking the mirror behind her head. She went limp as he came inside her, the blood coursing through him as he pulled the life from her body. He stopped moving pulling out of her and watched as the light slowly left her eyes.

He dropped her body on the ground tucking himself back into his jeans and buttoning them up. The power coursed through his body. He looked down at the girl before him, a girl he could have saved but for the amount of blood he took from her. She lay bleeding still the breath long since gone, the life gradually leaving her.

Jared sighed softly instantly regretting what he’d done to the girl. He moved over to the sink and stared at himself in the cracked and faded mirror. Blood covered the lower half of his face. He rinsed it off and picked up the knife. Just do it, the dark voice whispered, Do it and you will never have to go through this again. He unfastened the leather band that he wore around his wrist. He growled softly pain lancing through him as he sliced the top of his arm creating a perfect bleeding line deep but not deep enough to need stitching. Thankfully Morgan kept the knives sharp. This cut would join the other striped scars on his wrist some new others long since scarred over. He snapped the leather back over the bleeding wrist and watched it as it turned darker blood seeping from around it. He cleaned himself up checking his shirt for telltale signs of what he’d just done. He picked the girl up and put her into one of the stalls where she wouldn’t be found for a while. He closed his eyes for a moment, “I’m sorry,” he whispered not knowing to whom.

Anywhere but here

I am wondering if this is a precursor to the end. No one cares – I am pretty much done with my pathetic little life. I wonder daily where I can go where “young woman raped and murdered,” would be the most likely news headline. Granted I hope it would say young author raped and murdered but I don’t think I can write anymore. I used to be able to I used to publish my work. It all works towards the fact that I am way too screwed up to be alive. I tried I really did. I can’t do it. Out of memory out of words out of time. I tried, I really did. They didn’t care… if they only would understand.

I am doing the best that I can.  It is never good enough. Nothing is. I will always end up like this with something in my head screaming that it is time to get out. What honestly does it take to get someone to come and kill you. There are enough murderers out there. Why can’t one of them find me and just take me out. I don’t mind if you want to kill do so if you want to torture and maim do it…. just let me go.

What is Known

I know that love is hate twisted around to suit a purpose. If one thing my current circumstance has taught me it is that it is better to die fast and young than it is to live. Now I know why so many people get into prostitution and drugs. Right now I think I would do just about anything to escape.

Two of the best escapes in the world rough sex and drugs. I think I will stick to the rough sex and in some ways would make a the perfect concubine. Not so much into the whole drug experience. Can’t really deal with anything that will make me lose my grip on reality any further. It is already slipping too far beyond my grasp. I know what things should be and I know what I should do I just can’t bring myself to do it.

It is funny that I find killing myself easier than living a relatively simple life. The voices are stronger than they ever have been in the past. They whisper to me telling me what I should do and what things should be like. I am sure I could step outside and find what they are asking for. Only the knowledge that if I start doing what they tell me to do I will be lost. Since when they start realizing I am paying attention to them they will get louder and never stop talking, commanding obedience

I will trap myself inside buried deep within and withdrawn from the rest of the world. I’ve done it before and the people around me looked  into my eyes and saw nothing there. I can function for a long time like that. My body is on autopilot. I will do what ever I am told. I am almost at the point that I will do anything to not feel anymore even if it means listening to the voices and letting them be in control for a while. It just scares people when they look at me and realize that at that moment they are staring at something without a soul.

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