It’s something you’d never understand, until you’ve fully desired it. Until you’ve finally considered it and the ways you could do it. I didn’t used to understand it. I could never figure out why someone would do that. I get it now. It’s painful to think about and when you try to say it out loud the words don’t come out. When they finally do, it sounds foreign on your tongue, like an off note key. Even typing the word makes your fingers feel funny.
It’s how my great grandfather died. It was because he was in so much pain and couldn’t take it anymore. But then in a way, my anorexic/bulimic great grandmother did it too.
It takes at least two hands to count the number of times I’ve thought about it. The number of ways I’ve considered. I was listening to a song today, “Spirits” by Strumbellas and it just made so much sense. It says:
I got guns in my head and they won’t go
Spirits in my head and they won’t go
But the gun still rattles
It’s like right now, I’m okay, but it’s still there. I’m not better, I’m just getting close to being stable. But it haunts me and part of me still yearns for it. But it’s also like a tumblr post I’ve seen. I don’t know that I’d have the courage to do it. I don’t think I could pull a trigger or take a handful of meds. But if a car was coming towards me at a high speed, I don’t know I would get out of the way. Or if a tornado warning sounded, I probably wouldn’t go inside. It’s not like I’ve stopped wearing my seatbelt, or if I jumped in the deep end of a pool I would still hold my breath.
Part of it isn’t really that I want to die. Part of it is that I just want to go home. I miss my Heavenly Parents. I miss Christ. I yearn for their arms to be around me. I miss my my grandma and I want to know my grandpa. I want to see Britani and Cash and Tonka.
I want to be home and I want the pain of this life to be over. I don’t want to keep going sometimes. It holds nothing for me to look forward to sometimes. I try to find little things to look forward to and anchor myself to them. It’s how I wake up each morning. Then sometimes, I’ll do something, help someone and I’ll see, I’ll understand why I’m still here. Why I haven’t been whisked away yet.
It resonates when someone says the word. And I think about it again. Jokes still come to my head and I find humor in it. When I hear of someone going, I think about it, I wonder what it would have been like if it was me. I wonder if they are happy. Sometimes I wish it was me.
I don’t wish that I didn’t feel like this. I wish I would just go or the world would just end already. It would be easier. I would be happy. At least I think I would. I certainly wouldn’t miss this pain. There’s so much I would do, so much I would give just to be free of it.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree?
Wear a necklace of rope,
Side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.
See you soon, baboon.