Five final thoughts
And then I'm done
Promise
Last couple of things
Five - I didn't leave a note
Because when you're a writer
And you try to kill yourself
A note seems pointless
I've done nothing but write my entire life
What else was there left to say?
I'm sorry?
I wasn't
I wasn't sorry
I wanted other people to be sorry
That's the point
More than anything
I wanted to see my own funeral
If I could have thought of a feasible way
To fake my own death
And hide in the funeral parlor attic
Like Tom Sawyer
I would have done that instead
Suicide would have been entirely unnecessary
But nevertheless, I couldn't come up with anything
And since I couldn't fake my own death
It only seemed reasonable to just go for the real deal
Four - I miss my girlfriend
If I killed myself
I really wanted to make sure
That she blamed herself for it
I didn't want people telling her
'Ohhh, it wasn't your fault'
Because it would have been
Pretty much
All her fault
And I really would have liked for her to go the rest of her life
Regretting how she stopped loving me
Instead of continuing to love me
Which, to me, seemed like a fairly simple thing to do
If not a complete no-brainer, like breathing
After five years of being together
In what, I thought, was happiness
Three - I wondered what my obituary would say
I thought about writing it myself
But then I was scared it would get taken for a note
Which I've already said
I had no intention of writing
I wondered how long
Before people would stop grieving for me
I was hoping for cataclysmic grieving
Like 9/11 grieving
Like, a year later, we're still grieving
Like, oh my God, can you believe it's been a year?
How fucked up is that since I'm STILL grieving?
That kind of grieving
In reality, I think I was expecting
Maybe three weeks of grieving
Before everybody just...moved on
Two - I should have done pills
But they say women do pills
Because it's not as final
Or something
Men shoot themselves
Or jump off buildings
They make sure they're gonna die
And since, as you probably guessed
I didn't REALLY want to die
It's kind of funny
That I chose the gun
Because that would pretty much guarantee dying
And since when do guns actually jam?
I mean, guns never jam, right?
I mean, what if somebody had needed that gun?
Yes, I'll admit
I didn't really NEED the gun
I needed it to kill myself
But I guess that really isn't a need, per se
But what if that gun had been bought by a policeman
Who needed to shoot a robber?
Then it wouldn't have been such a miracle that it jammed
Everyone keeps telling me
That it's a miracle the gun jammed
But if some poor Joe Police Officer got shot because of it
Then it wouldn't be such a great thing, right?
Isn't perspective fucked up sometimes?
I should have taken pills
But I don't even know how I would have gotten pills
Where do you get the good kill yourself pills?
How do women get them?
I guess I could have asked a woman
But the only woman I know is my girlfriend
And when I called her to tell her I was going to kill myself
In the hopes that she'd try to stop me
She didn't answer
So I left her a voicemail
And she texted me back with--
You don't have the balls
Which made me think, Sweeeeet
When I do kill myself she'll feel ever WORSE
But then the gun jammed
And I couldn't unjam it
And now she probably thinks she was right
Fucking bitch
One - I'm not going to do it again
Nothing got better
Nothing changed
I still feel like shit
And I'm not going to do it again
Not because of the gun jamming
Or because I feel like I'd fail if I tried again
Because let's face it
Next time I'd jump off a building
And if a truck full of pillows pulled up underneath me
Then I'd go play the lottery
Win, because you know, apparently at the point
I'd be unstoppable
And I'd be rich
And then I'd be happy
Because that IS how it works
But
Regardless
I'm not going to do it again
Because when I pulled the trigger
The first thing I thought wasn't--
Phew, relief
It was...fuck
I thought...fuck
And, if that's what I thought, then...
Then something was wrong
Then maybe I needed to rethink
The whole thing
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