Hope and Hysteria

Why I Killed Myself Pt. 1

Hello, stranger. I don't mean at all to sound creepy, but I want to do the best I can to make sure you're doing your best in the circumstance given. I hope I at least kept this away from all the blood so it's not hard to read. You might be shocked to see a dead guy, odds are you haven't seen too much death in your life. Hold onto that if you want to stay sane or happy for the rest of your life. Now to 'cut' to the chase... what a terrible pun. Sorry. I've talked to a couple know-it-all's in the mental health business (psychiatrists, psychologists, psychotherapists, WebMD, Facebook, etc) who have all told me that I have something that goes a little like 'a main dish of severe depression and a side of borderline personality disorder.' I bet you're going 'well no wonder you're dead, you're mentally ill.' You're probably not wrong, but there's a little more to that. Nothing's ever so cut-and-dry like that. Especially not when the facts are coming from people's ideas about the world. All the information can get construed, leading one (me) to a philosophy of cynicism (if you're familiar with that) where you don't trust what anyone says if it's not straight from the cutter's mouth, so to speak. You can listen to a whole orgy of medical professionals all you like to tell you why I chose to slit my throat in this here bathroom, or you could listen to the person who actually did it. Your choice, really. You could tear this thing up for all I care (even though the police might get a little suspicious of you if you did, so I recommend not). But if you want the truth, I'll give it to you. Whether you trust me or not is also your choice, as it's fair to trust neither me nor any other 'professional' for the sake of argument. To get down to it, it really was because of my morning I had. I survived Monday, at least. But today, I was talking to my professor about an assignment. He answered my questions fine, mentioning that he preferred to 'leave the students to discover the answers for themselves' which is fine, given I discovered it for myself from a professor. But I knew what he meant. It shouldn't have to be so easy for me to do. I should be challenged, right? Well, I'd say this whole balancing depression and the rest of my life is a course in itself. Every day I debate with myself; should I die today or not? Up until now, I hope you can guess what my answers have been, save for a couple times (three, actually) where I decided I didn't want to live but was caught too early, so I couldn't die. Today though, something clicked. I've been compared to and competing for so long now that I feel completely hopeless with everything. The fact of the matter is that I'm just not good enough to be an engineering student, or to at least be recognized as one because I do so much worse than everybody else. It feels humiliating to be stuck an idiot and it's not something I'm willing to live with anymore. So, acting on impulse, I killed myself after that interaction. That's a common theme with me; wanting to die and being prepared to do so when I face the reality of who I am. It's not even who I am, but how nobody can fundamentally change in the way they need. I feel trapped and alone, and boo-hoo, I'll die because of it. So that's why. If you don't understand, don't feel discouraged; nobody I've talked to can understand the crushing feeling of being trapped in a prison of flesh and bone that only does worse than all the other sacks of meat. Remember when you tried something and failed? Remember that feeling of humiliation, and felt really down on yourself? Now, try feeling like that constantly because you think that who you are is that type of failure. Let me tell you something: it doesn't feel good, and it's a tried and true fact of life. I am simply less of a person than anyone else because of my mental health and my lack of achievement when compared to others. Every time I try to die, I regret not having gone through with it because I know that the pain I feel will last forever and it's not something that anyone can change, it's built into me. I remember my most recent suicide failure being the worst, where I was driven to hospital and kept in an isolation cell for two days. That's when my cynicism really kicked in. I did not speak to any nurses or doctors; I just sat on a blow-up mattress in the dark, crying, screaming, wishing I were dead more than ever, all while constantly being watched on camera. I could not hide from the very system that made me know these terrible truths in the first place. The system I live in likes to torture me this way. It will prod me until I act on impulse, of course not being able to conceal my true intentions of death, and trap me in a cell where I can't even die. That is a misery that has haunted me ever since. It reminds me of a passage from O Fortuna, originally from the Carmina Burana, which says:"... First oppresses, and then soothes, as fancy takes it;... Fate - monstrous, and empty, you whirling wheel, you are malevolent, well-being is vain and always fades to nothing, shadowed and veiled you plague me too;"That is probably the best description I have of my situation. Fate is the chaos of the universe which drives all interactions between sentient and inanimate things, and it has created me to be something of a pawn in someone else's game which can never be changed, only by the sheer randomness of everything. Things are truly hopeless.I'm sure my father won't appreciate my death too much. He and I became increasingly closer towards the end of my life. Since my most recent suicide attempt, he has seen me in a different way, it seems. Given my grandfather on my father's side had killed himself two years ago, I am sure my dad does not want to see me go, especially like this. But unfortunately I have no choice, which is something he may never understand and has told me, but it's the truth. I am stuck an idiot, a pawn, and always under the boot of the state and underneath the accomplishments of my peers. Nothing but fate can change me, and it only soothes to oppress me time and time again, and it is something I cannot live with. I cannot live remembering all the mistakes I have made in my life, the many times I have disappointed my family and friends, or at least their views of how one should be in their lives. I am someone who is not worth much by anyone's standards. I cannot come to peace with the fact that I will be below people all my life. I would much rather be dead, which is exactly what I did. So, can you really blame me? All the times I have shown myself to be so inadequate and incapable of what so many other people find so easy or at least doable. All I have ever known is this grades and schooling game, and it is all I touch and feel. It is all I see in the world too, everyone's accomplishments and work displays their status. I am one that is at the very bottom of every human hierarchy of ideal qualities, truly. I have failed enough projects and tests to know this. I began to ramble again, whoops. Anyways, see to it that my mother gets a message, as we have not been on the best terms ever since she viewed my medical records and saw that I listed her as having some less-desirable behaviours when I was really little. It is no fault of hers, she is just as mentally ill as I, and has had a much more sporadic childhood, but the way she affected me put me in some bad places. She is probably torn up by it. As I write this I miss her, but I know things won't be the same. There was an old world I used to live in where I saw things as hopeful and full of potential. I'm sure I still should, as I am only 20, but people are being 'organized' by a system and younger and younger ages with no real way out. I feel I am one of those people who have been already organized or institutionalized to an extent. It feels like there is no real way out either. Again, I feel trapped.Next I would like to address the love of my (short) life, Natalie. Natalie is someone who has suffered more than I have and became much more successful and resilient than I could ever be, and she is someone I admire everyday for her humility and gentle nature. She is a true miracle. She will most likely be deeply saddened and maybe confused. Please explain to her that my death was only a matter of time, and I could not take having my dreams of being someone to design and fly rockets crushed by an institution and the realities of the game I play. Tell her I wasn't good enough on a fundamental level and I wish I could've been a better person for her. She deserves a lot more than me, since I'm clearly a wreck and have needed her help too many times to admit. She always gave it too, unconditionally, even when I was in my worst places. Except for this time, of course. Having seen the insides of a psychiatric care unit on multiple occasions and seeing the state of my situation according to the system, I knew to never inform any 'professional' of my mental health and my situation. They do not know any logical arguments against my case, and will take my freedoms away if I ever show them what I think. To them, it's a perfect sign of vulnerability and weakness, and it is something they like to take advantage of. It gets them paid. It made me worse. Now, I'm smarter and killed myself, telling people of my situation after the fact. Now to address my extended family. I can simply say thanks for the wonderful experiences, I truly did appreciate them and they felt like a nice escape from the harsh reality of my situation. Unfortunately, though, reality is always the one to get the biggest vote in things that happen, and it turned up snake-eyes for me. Please don't stop being so connected, though. The sheer connectedness between everyone gives an amazing sense of community and sanctuary. Being around everyone, each of them an individual and one to be genuinely enjoyed with, made me feel good. Perhaps something about satisfying Maslow's hierarchy. If that is at all true.Onto my friends and peers I have met over the years. If I knew you, then I'm sorry I had to go like this. I wish I were born better, but I'm not. I understand the brain is plastic, but not plastic enough maybe. That's how it feels. A message to all my friends would be to not take the system you live in too seriously like I did, and if you do, hold on to as much information as you can that tells you there is no linear path like how I see things. I'm sure subjective experience will help guide everyone to a better tomorrow as long as they can find a way to realize for themselves that there is no set linear path and that worth is relative. There really is no such thing as fundamental worth or responsibility. But as I have grown up with institutions telling me who I was, I believed them, and it killed me. To the stranger potentially hearing about this on the news, the same goes for you. Never take the word of an institution as gospel. A cynicism that knows the limitations of the power that others have over you will do you well. Do not believe the words of rich peddlers trying to make a buck, tyrants who lie as well as they dress. Only trust the homeless man, the raped woman, the hurt child, and the disabled hopeful. It is in the sufferers and the pawns where you may find true wisdom, success, and happiness. Do not listen to the powers that be or were, but the powers that live in agony and regret, and the powers that know to not trust nor respect anyone, even with merit. Nobody is worth that much.