Suicide or Coffee?

I don’t think Camus asked the question “Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?” I think it was just someone’s interpretation of his philosophy of Absurdism. Absurdism is Camus’ philosophy which argues that finding inherent meaning in life is pointless, but we should still strive to find meaning anyway.

I’ve struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts since my teen years. My recent suicide attempt was a couple of years ago. I figured a nice mixture of pills and booze would do just fine. It’d be a peaceful way to go out. I could just get good a numb and drunk and fall asleep without feeling anything. I made the mistake of saying my good-byes, which fucked everything up. I think people believe those with suicidal ideation are just looking for attention. I didn’t want attention. I wanted people to know I loved them and it wasn’t their fault that I was going to do what I was going to do.

I learned my lesson for the next time though. I just won’t tell anybody. I’m not saying I’m going to kill myself today. I’m not saying I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m saying sometime down the road I see myself just ending it because that’s the only thing we have control over in this life. We can choose when, where, and how we want to make our exit. Everything else in life is shit that people dump on you and you’re just supposed to do it because they said so. Suicide is just a final way of saying “I don’t have to fucking do any of this.”

We all have ways of dealing with our own hurt. Mine has always been humor. It’s easier to laugh at how fucked up this little world is when you can’t do much about it. After all none of us asked for any of this. And how dare people just assume the best thing for anyone is to toss it into a world that’s not going to give a shit if you’re alive or dead anyway. We’re all going to be worm food in the end. Most of us will never leave a mark on the world. No one’s going to remember. No one’s going to care that we were ever here so what was the point? There wasn’t a point. There was just a broken condom and some pseudo-altruistic view that bringing another life into this world was the best thing for this world. Shame on those people.

All I can do until my time comes is sleep as much as humanly possible in order to practice for death when I’ll get all the sleep I’ll ever want. Weed helps to keep things funny enough and keep me lazy enough to not get out of bed and reach for a gun.

As another philosopher once said: “Life’s like a dick: when it gets hard … fuck it.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s