What Comes Next

This post has gone through several iterations, starting as poem that morphed into what read as a suicide note it then moved on to a discussion of my life seasoned with notes of suicide interspersed.  I continue to want to find a reason to go on. In a surreal twist of irony, the guilt that I feel for drawing my friends into my agony as I search for that reason, weighs so heavily on me that at times I can’t catch my breath. The constant struggle is exhausting, and the energy required to get through one more day keeps rising.

To be clear my life has taken a sudden left hand turn and launched itself off the cliff. My first response when I realize I’m not wearing a parachute is to conclude that my life is over and that has me thinking…

There must be things that I want to tell those I leave behind, what would they be? What should they be?

What’s the purpose, where does it end. Should I be sad about coming to the end, truthfully after the way I’ve suffered this past week it would be a relief but..

What is so sacred about living,

Without knowing what comes next or even if there is anything else isn’t it presumptuous to assume that this reality is the ultimate goal.

We all die, everything passes on in it’s time, it’s just the way things work. Is the point to live the longest?  Doesn’t quality or happiness enter into the equation at some point, is the number of days the sole determination of your life’s worth? If you live a short happy life is that somehow a failure when judged against some unhappy soul who just happens to live past a hundred. To scratch out one more day one more week is that all that matters? Why should we fear death?

Fearing death we go on living long past when the living is done, but don’t look at it that way they say, there could be something amazing waiting just around the corner. It is such a selfish act to cut your life short they all say, Think of the pain you’ll cause those you leave behind, well I guess that is true but this really isn’t about them it’s about me, it’s all about me.

To those left behind, if in fact I lose this battle I say the following , I’m sorry but your expectations and desires simply required more resilience than Rachel had to give, know that I feel so guilty about the pain this causes but you need to understand how totally devastating this is to me. It seems so personal, like I have been singled out, picked out from the crowd for this. I can’t see a way out of the pain that is wracking my heart. I can’t see a future at this point that doesn’t include pain and poverty, sadness and isolation.

It would seem that after all I have been through the last 3 and a half years that I would have earned a get out of jail free card, is it reasonable to hope that if there is something astounding just over the horizon that a small glimpse of what is to come would be shared, to if nothing else, assure that I live long enough to get there. but I guess the Universe doesn’t make bargains, doesn’t work that way.

If it’s true what they say about stress and it’s effect on the body, maybe my heart will oblige me and just give out as I sleep tonight and save me the agony that continues to assault my soul in wave after wave. Although if the past week is any indication of the sadistic undertone of whatever force controls all, I will probably live to be a hundred and eight and struggle to find an elusive happiness until the very end.

Oh well…


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