Drifting in the Space of Ramblings

Ramblings About Suicide

Suicide has always been a constant thought in my life. Fear of aging. Fear of diseases. Fear of living too long and seeing how everything is pointless and empty.

I've always faced death head-on; I don't think a person could become an astronaut if they were afraid of dying. Despite all the precautions, it's still a risky profession. Firefighters, police officers, soldiers... they're all hidden suicides. A person doesn't choose a profession where they risk getting shot or dying in a fire purely out of altruism. There are no heroes who aren't suicidal.

When I was a teenager, I spent hours thinking about how I would do it. I thought about rowing to a shark-infested area and cutting my hand. The seawater mixing with my blood would attract the beasts to their final feast. I'd make a hole in the boat and blow my brains out with a gun. Quick and painless. The boat would sink slowly, the sharks would eat me already dead. No body to bury. I'd simply disappear forever.

After losing a dog that ran away and never finding it again, I gave up on this idea. It's terrible not to be sure if someone you love very much is alive or dead. You need a body to bury.

The sea was my choice because it's almost infinite.

Ironic.

I'd never have imagined that outer space would be my tomb.

Is there anything more infinite than space?

Does God manage to convey this feeling with His presence?

Now that I'm drifting in space and will soon die from lack of oxygen, suicide is something that doesn't leave my mind. Some people say it's a mortal sin. They say I'll go to hell. Suicide is frowned upon; you don't have the right to take your own life.

Why?

Isn't a suicidal person someone with more faith? No one kills themselves thinking there's nothing better on the other side. Wouldn't a suicidal person be the only one taking a precise and solid step toward eternity? Wouldn't they be greeted with applause for being more certain of the afterlife than people clinging to life like vultures clinging to carrion? Aren't we the ones poor in spirit when we simply refuse to die and fight without any reason against something we can't defeat?

Death is inevitable. Nothing new there.

If I decide to open the helmet and simply die a few minutes before the suffering comes to get me, I refuse to feel guilty. I won't enter eternity with my head down for deciding to take my own life. It takes a lot of guts to do this. And who the hell can judge my decision? How many people have died in space like me? How many people have lived the lives of all the suicides down below?

People judge, and that's all they know how to do.

Sometimes the suffering is too great. Sometimes the hopelessness is too great. Sometimes the will to live is too small. And who are we to judge?

I think I've already decided my end. I think I decided it a long time ago.