Saturday, June 15, 2013

A collection of suicide notes

There's this feeling you get when you finish a really great book, you know the one?
It's like time stopped while you were reading and now it's all rushed to catch up with you.
So you are watching your life on fast forward like a horror film and it hits you.
All of the things you regret and everything you wish you could change but can't.
Everything feels so hollow like all the hopes and dreams you've ever had were just decorated lies.
You feel like you can't breathe and to pick up another book feels as if it would be a massive betrayal.
To ever read another word would be like swallowing needles.
It's a heavy feeling.
Not unlike the feeling of missing a love you never knew; remembering things that never happened.
Floating peacefully in an acid vat.
You have suddenly realized you are going to die and it feels like it will be very soon.
And now you have so many adieus to bid.
Its all so terrifying.
Because I'm not afraid or anxious.
I'm relieved.
After so long of thinking that I could get better whenever I felt like it I realized that its no longer possible.
That these little whispers of future have been all for appearances sake and I never truly believed I'd be going to art school.
Or France.
Now I have to tally up all the things I owe and every broken promise.
Somehow I have to make it okay for everyone else or at the very least give them assurance that nothing is their fault.
I've written so many undelivered suicide notes that I find them hiding in every notebook I own.
Remembering that I'm not supposed to be alive is a little strange for me.
Realizing that I might die this time doesn't bother me as much as it probably should but then again I guess that is the point isn't it?
I have a few promises I have to make good on but when they are gone I keep wondering what will be left?
There could always be more if I decide on that; if I allowed myself to believe I was entertaining the notion of a different possible outcome.
But I'm not and that will be the end of it.
It feels nice actually.
Like maybe this is as inevitable as it seems and I only have to worry about little things I want to do before.
Unlike the last (3) time(s) this one isn't spontaneous.
I am not making an impulse decision here.
This is planned.
Mind you I haven't thought of when or how but for some reason it feels like four times the charm.
I feel like this has been creeping up on me for a very long time.
Don't worry this isn't goodbye, at least not yet it isn't.
But soon maybe.