The day I wanted to kill myself

I always lived in the moment. Not really worrying about future events, as the future seemed always so far away.

But I’m going to tell you the story of my death. So how did it happen?

I used to go to school, not that long ago. And I hated it. I remember the morning ritual, the early waking, the coldness when leaving the bed and the walk of sadness when entering that previously white turned greyish ugly building of disformed education. It wasn’t that bad but it was far from exciting and what was the worst part was probably how unexciting it was. Even the strongly encouraged competitive landscape the insitution so fervently tried to implement, had no impact upon me. I soon got tired of the game of having good marks to impress my comrades and parents. I didn’t feel proud when seeing that A nor did I started feeling shame when seeing that D. I became utterly indifferent. Which lead to teacher repetitively warning my parents of my “superficial work” of “picking subjects I liked and focussing only on these.” But who could blame me? The system asks you to just pass, and at that, I was naturally talented. This perfectly well functioning system worked for me fine, even though I developed an addiction of class skipping.

I started not going to school. I knew I couldn’t pull it off too often, the “I feel sick, please let me stay home” lie. But as every addict knows, it’s difficult to keep the lie a secret. Eventually you expose yourself. And I did. It became a morning battle between my parents who didn’t believe me anymore, the school administration asking for explanations for the many absences and me, wanting to stay in that secure and warm environment, surrounded by a nice tea, a good book and especially, profound calm. Reflecting later on it, I suppose I was mostly allergic to the noise of the school, which drained my energy and made me not actually sick but profoundly exhausted. You might think: that’s because you’re an introvert. But I promise you, I’m usually the one entertaining at dinner partys.

But I’m derailing. It was the 22nd birthday of myself. I had successfully achieved the social required academic path expected from my parents, teachers, society, and other living souls which had pressured me into doing this. Including my very self conscious. And now I thought? What shall I do now? “Get a job.” My parents said. But just as every previous thing I had ever done, there was a lack of passion and motivation. Still, no one could accuse me of not trying. So I started a badly paid internship in a well respected institution. And after 6 months of boredom, I happily waved goodbye the insupportable routine and the prison which had let to it. See, I never really could master the sacrifice of giving someone else my precious time nor energy. But as I drifted along for a year, interrupted by regular calls of my beloved creators, I decided to share with them my first and very permanent decision. These kinds of declarations can not be done easily. One has to prepare for it. I’ve noticed how suicide notes are very popular. As much as posts on the world wide global sphere of the net.

But I would do it differently. And by that I mean not in secrecy.

So I waited for the next family reunion. It was nice. We were all together, cosy in the warm house having dinner. Brothers and sisters talked about their lives and I eagerly asked questions. And then I asked for everyone’s attention. “I have something important to say. So first I would like to say that I’m not depressed nor profoundly sad, and I don’t have any big problems nor am I in any way an addict. My biggest issue as you all know is me being very lazy, probably. (general laugher). As you all know, I love you all dearly. And it’s because I love you all that I have not been sure if I would be capable of doing it. But I have decided that I love myself more, and for my loves sake, I want to be at rest. For ever. This is a rational decision.” By then you can imagine the outburst. Family members can’t usually consider these kind of decisions with the appropriate calm. They didn’t understand. But how difficult could it be? I wasn’t excited about life. I found it pretty boring. I didn’t find solance in any of our planets treasures. The humans I met were incredibly disappointing, and so were the occuring events. I was only 22 years old, at the peak of my handsomeness, healthy, funny, but terribly bored borderline annoyed. In the end, I told them it wasn’t personal, but I still did it. Even though my only regret was knowing they would suffer, but I told them I was just sleeping. Forever.

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