Hope and Hysteria

Why I Killed Myself Pt. 4

I guess this is the end of the line for me. I wish I could say that it's not something I deserve, but for the past while, I haven't been able to do much. I constantly ask myself whether I fear my species or hate it, or hate it because I fear it. It's all a mess in my head, but I have a few things certain: I am neither somebody who pulls their own weight in terms of supporting my fellow species, and I see the savagery and thoughts of every human being in a translucent social sheath which has evolved, as societies do, to try to appear more civil than could possibly be the case. Everyone is bound to their nature and it frustrates me. I wish I could at least be a part of a group that could enjoy their ignorances of their very nature, but it seems like an impossible task. I have nobody to truly connect with; nobody to sympathize with the way I fear the world, or at least can understand it. I've seen enough of myself to know that I am stuck being somebody who cannot function as an individual, properly. I cannot take care of myself as I hoped I could. This seems to be a fatal mark that would suggest I am hard-wired to fail, or at least malfunction as a self-sustaining human being. Who am I to judge the world anyways, what with all my imperfections of laziness? It seems I'm the classic self-righteous slob who both hates the world for being savage, as well as behaves savage myself. I don't know how it is other people can seem to take care of themselves, but I seem to be completely alone in struggling with what seems like something that comes so naturally to everyone else. I can't live any longer knowing that I am a fatal flaw of my species for neither being able to see hope, nor one who can support themselves and give back to the community. I wish I knew how, but I don't, and it has come to a point where I cannot live anymore while I count up all my pathetic imperfections. My mother would always scold me for feeling this way, telling me to stop feeling sorry for myself, but if this is what it's like to feel sorry for myself, then I'm even better off dead. I can't fix myself, no matter how hard I try, so I will not waste anyone else's time and get on with it. That way, I won't be there for people to have to cringe at, especially myself. Now, I can't go to sleep without the thoughts of a rope around my neck running through my head. I have nobody to turn to, as I have seen when being kept in a psych ward. They don't care about you there, they don't even see you as a human being there. You're some sort of animal to them. I can't go to anyone. I am completely alone, and this letter is to the rest of the world in hopes that I am not the only one who was in this situation, but as it is, this is the financial and moral end of the line for me. When I close my eyes to go to sleep, images of my suicide flash through my head, too vivid to be imaginations. I buy the rope and the hook to tie it to. I lay it out on my bedroom floor, and see it snake up and down because it has to be long enough to snap my neck when I fall. Then I see myself with my backpack walk alongside the bridge, nobody else near the sidewalk. I quickly yank out the noose and tighten it around my neck, hook the other end onto the railing of the bridge, and climb over the railing, make sure to fall as in-line with the rope as possible for the best jerk to my neck when I have reached the bottom. I have read this is one of the better ways, time and time again. I feel good to know there is at least somebody out there to support me in ending my life. I'm sure there are more people in the world that are apt to aid a suicide than anyone thinks. People are fundamentally selfish, anyways. I know I'm no different, and perhaps I am so good at seeing it in everyone else because I see it so easily in myself. I've been fantasizing about the 'long drop' for years. I just hope I end up somewhere nicer after my neck snaps.As it is a bit of a public nuisance to hang myself under a bridge, my apologies to anyone who had to see it, but I was at my breaking point time and time again it feels like, and so this was the last straw for me. I couldn't afford to live anymore, and there was no hope in sight for me, it seems, especially for someone so useless when compared to everyone else. I hope you don't remember it, but I'm very confident you won't. I find human beings have gotten a lot less sensitive about some whiteboy hanging himself. Fair enough.Sorry, and good luck being alive.