The Suicide Checklist

Chapter 1 - The Proximity of Sisters

I stared back at myself in the dingy mirror, reflecting on my clothing choices. Even with my one inch-boosted purple Converse, I stood a towering five-foot-two, draped in an oversized cotton candy blue hoodie with baby ducks dancing all over it, bubblegum pink tights, and this nasty green backpack. Even though it had the color of baby puke, I still liked it. Babies are always cute, even their vomit, I guess. Everything was nice and squared off with my yellow, not blonde, yellow-dyed hair fashioned into an imitation Anna Wintour bob cut. Hardly the look of someone whom, in seven days, would be going to kill themselves.

I even have the "equipment" ready. I'll be ending all this obnoxious noise and nonsense with a strong dose of hydrogen sulfide. Just one good sniff and it's lights out. Plus, no pain. I knew a guy who knew some lady who slit her wrists and died from blood loss in the bathtub. Sounds awful. My method is far more pleasant. Almost dreamlike even. It's easier too. All it takes is some toilet cleaner and pesticide. Household products any Joe Schmuck could buy. I don't even know how to slit wrists. I guess a kitchen knife? Way too complicated.

It seems I'll be following in the footsteps of my aunt which really sucks because I've never considered myself a follower. It's also kind of odd since I never knew her well. It took her a couple times, but eventually she landed it. That's because she was far more impulsive and didn't plan thoroughly like me.

See, I've been researching my suicide for seven months and thinking about it for three years. I'm not depressed or anything. I'm just tired. I wake up day in, day out and it's the same old horseshit. I mean it's bonkers, total madness. Dying is like trying to lose weight. I think it was Charles Bukowski who said "you carry in one hand a bundle of darkness that accumulates each day. And when death finally comes, you say right away, 'Hey, buddy, glad to see ya!'" And I've accumulated quite the bundle of darkness—

Achoo!

I wonder why I just sneezed. There's hardly any dust in here. I hate when when I sneeze.

Anyway, we all go through life and, just like rooms, we collect dust. And after a while, the dust really builds up. Now we're covered in a thick, heavy coat of filthy dust. We become just like Pigpen. Who wants that? Pigpen's dirty, he's alone— actually, I wanna be alone. That's my whole goal here, to shed all the weight and the dust of relationships by killing myself. Now I feel like my metaphor's fallen apart. Is my reasoning flawed? My plan constitutionally weak? Whatever. Just keep the ball rolling. Don't look back. My problem is that people are fine, but humans are awful. Too bad for me because most people are humans too. Dogs can be people, and they're all right. But the more relationships we develop, friends, family, lovers, the more anchored and tethered down we become. And by the end of our lives, we're completely imobile. What a hell.

So, what I'm going to do is, I'm going to inhale the aroma of Death and enter the Bad Sleep Well. Wait, no. The Big Sleep. That's it. The Bad Sleep Well is the name of a pretty good Japanese film. Funny enough, this method of suicide was quite popular with the Japanese. It's even how Kimura Hana of Terrace House fame left this realm. Although, I don't think my being half Japanese has anything to do this.

I wonder if there is any meaning in that... Probably not.

Look, it's not like I have a bad life. Some people really get slapped with a dirty glove when it comes to general quality of life. Yet, for some reason, I just can't take humans anymore. School is a scam, the concepts of nations and politics are rackets, and intimacy and love of any kind is an illusion. No matter how close you get to someone you can never truly and entirely be known. There are always some parts of you that will never be known to others and vice versa. This isn't the fault of anyone, it's just how things are. You don't even know all there is to know about yourself. No one does. Isn't that sad?