We Are the Normal Ones: Memoirs of a Fallen Human

just think about it

My mind seeps poison and sulfur and ash into my heart and body each second of every millisecond it tries to beat life in me. Concrete being poured into my lungs and each day I feel it drying, hardening and commiting homicide against my existence. Yet, I have to endure that because my suicide will effect generations of people who never knew me. Because they knew someone who knew someone who killed themselves and their behavior after that incident changed them. For example, my brother's kids will be affected by the suicide that took his sister away. And now they'll have half a dad. And then their kids would affected because they were raised by a dad who didn't have his sister. "Think about that and maybe that'll help you when you feel suicidal."

Guilt me to live.
Instead of loving me to live.

"You would be affecting many lives if you ever do commit suicide."

"I doubt that..."

"No, not because they'll miss you and it'll hurt them to see you go like that, but because your suicide will affect someone mentally and that in turn will affect the way that person interacts with others or how their kids will be raised."

It's my fault? Even after death, everything will still be my fault?

'Love and fine works. Not guilt and fine works', they said today. That's what they say at least.