Daigoro’sDisciple
Member
- Jul 6, 2019
- 20
A couple of years ago, in my very early adulthood, I've had two failed attempts. I can't say they were properly planned, but nor were they completely impulsive. I can also say that I am glad that I survived both of them. The first time I tightened a belt around a 'pole' in a two story bed. I dangled with a handgrip to test out its strength. It all seemed good. I placed it around my neck while sort of supporting my weight with my legs on a chair. I don't really remember if I had knowledge how things were supposed to be done. But I managed to compress my carotids — or at the very least one of them — because I was fading away. I panicked after a while and tried to move my legs. But not enough happened, I was too weak, I lost consciousness. Then, moments later, I woke up on the floor, noticing the belt lay broken. Probably thanks to me trying out its strength earlier, and maybe from the struggle just before fainting, I cannot say for sure. But I can say that up to this day I still remember vividly how wonderful those first breaths felt like. I was sort of laughing and crying in a weird type of combination. I was also very drunk. But all in all, I was relieved and went on with my day.
Before my second attempt I had been cutting for a while. Rather shallow cuts in my opinion. Though, some of them bled quite a bit. The day I had decided to CTB, I cut my usual smaller cuts, in order to get into the right mindset. I knew nothing about anatomy. Had only seen this stereotypical wrist-slitting BS on tv-shows/movies. I had no idea about all the blood that would spurt across the room if I had done it the right way and scored an artery. Like some clueless moron, I sat there with a few towels in preparation, to prevent leaving a mess. After hesitating for hours and only having minor scrapes on my arms, I just snapped after pondering about what a coward I actually was. I took my biggest knife, which was about 25-30cm, though I don't think it was shockingly sharp, and hacked my forearm with all the force I could mentally muster, several times. For the first time in my life, I saw my skin crack open wide. Sure, there was blood, not too much of it though, but it was also some other weird liquid pouring out. I laughed nervously at the irony of my uselessness surrounding this awkward attempt, and then tried to fall asleep, even though stress and fear was racing through my head, hoping I'd die in a careless slumber. It all healed up by itself eventually and left some ugly scars, though I was really unsure if it ever would when I first looked at the bleeding gaps in my skin. Somehow, I was more scared of showing it to anyone, than to let it get messed up. After all, I sort of did feel as if I was done with life at that point. And I was blissfully unaware of how lucky I actually was not to have severed anything important and to still have a functioning hand to make use of. During this event, I was in a completely sober state. Although, the adrenaline probably numbed some of the discomfort that otherwise might've worsened the experience.
These days, when I look back, I can honestly say I'm glad I did not succeed, that I did not leave blood, gore and a pale corpse for my relatives to find. Also, that I got to see how wrong I was regarding a lot of phenomenons in life. I used to feel so stupid and weird when I looked around at society. I thought everyone else was so perfect and I myself did not amount to shit. I did not want to amount to shit because I knew that would mean I'd have to use my neighboring humans as stepping-stones. All I wished for was to be left alone and live in peace far away from it all. My motivation was to escape from my twisted view of myself and the mental agony surrounding everyday life. O, such a relief it was once I got my own apartment and pretty much cut all ties with my so-called friends. I started living like a hermit with no interest in social activities. Sure, I treat people with respect and I socialize at work, not more than I deem necessary though, and spend my spare time mostly by myself doing shit I like. Playing games, reading books and taking walks out in the woods. Don't get me wrong, it can be a nice thing to socialize, but it gets rather tiresome doing it with 'mindless puppets' all the time. Maybe a few of them are smarter than they let on — because it's annoying to reveal your true feelings and get judged at times. So, I totally understand and respect that we all have our personas to maintain. My point being, it most often feels like interacting with plastic people. I've pondered a lot about life and the meaning behind it. And I feel somewhat content regarding my various potential conclusions surrounding this subject. I am not one to preach and claim that I know such matters with full certainty. I only mean to say I have a strong hunch which to me personally is enough to feel satisfied, even if I turn out to be wrong in the end, which is a very high probability since I am nothing but a puny human, it is still a spark of hope.
Now I am having these morbid thoughts for altogether different reasons. I've left detailed notes to everyone closely related. I am thankful for everything that has happened to me. There have been a lot of darkness at times, but in the end it has transformed me into the being I am today. No more am I escaping society. I am leaving it behind me. I truly feel at peace with facing the next stage of our existence — if there is one — if not, I have at least followed my moral compass and honored my personal beliefs. At my final moments, I am at peace with myself as much as with everyone else. I am not angry with anyone for their behavior, rather I've started to think that maybe each of us has some sort of twisted lesson to grasp here on earth. When we are done and see life for what it is, death is no longer such a big deal anymore. I admit it can be a rather frightening step to take. Though, at the same time, I feel like this is my final test in life. How I face my demise ought to say a lot about the core of my innermost being. I may also add, in my humble opinion, courage is not walking carelessly through danger, it's facing your fears and pushing through, while battling a shitstorm of unstable emotions circling within you.
What has helped me the most to achieve this sensation of acceptance, I think is my newfound view of the world, which I've also sort of managed to portray within a fictional novel, not in english though, as a sort of final farewell to whomever decides to read it. It felt like an effective way to express my feelings instead of just leaving in silence. Even if it remains unread and gathers dust, I have still left it there. I get the impression that this forum could work in a similar manner for a lot of its members. By sharing our points of view and provoke healthy thoughts within one another, we may spread the message that there is a difference between escaping and leaving, and discourage the escape route, encouraging those being in an ambivalent state of mind to consider that something may come from giving life an honest wholehearted attempt, if they don't like it, then they are indeed free to leave — but it is always sad seeing people escape!
Another reason for feeling rather calm is probably thanks to the fact that I have prepared things to my utmost ability in order not to burden anyone. I have, in my notes, explained why I do this and that there is no reason to feel sorry. I've made it very clear that I hold no grudges toward anyone. I just wish to pass on and see what's next. No hate involved. Try making peace in such a manner and it may very well aid you in your ethereal journey.
All in all, the message I'm trying to pass on is that I urge all those ambivalent souls out there, who's asking others for a second opinion, not to end their existence in an impulsive act of desperation. Rather, think it through, and give life a chance. Try your best at finding new views on all worldly matters. I mean, dare flipping people of if they bug you, speak your heart when you feel the urge to do so, don't let people walk over you. Take risks when you feel odds are in your favor. If it all falls apart you can always use your bus ticket later — it has no expiration date.
Even though a lot of people might have no other choice than to leave in sorrow and desperation, I sincerely wish everyone about to leave will reach a state where they may set off on their final journey with a serene sort of determination!
Before my second attempt I had been cutting for a while. Rather shallow cuts in my opinion. Though, some of them bled quite a bit. The day I had decided to CTB, I cut my usual smaller cuts, in order to get into the right mindset. I knew nothing about anatomy. Had only seen this stereotypical wrist-slitting BS on tv-shows/movies. I had no idea about all the blood that would spurt across the room if I had done it the right way and scored an artery. Like some clueless moron, I sat there with a few towels in preparation, to prevent leaving a mess. After hesitating for hours and only having minor scrapes on my arms, I just snapped after pondering about what a coward I actually was. I took my biggest knife, which was about 25-30cm, though I don't think it was shockingly sharp, and hacked my forearm with all the force I could mentally muster, several times. For the first time in my life, I saw my skin crack open wide. Sure, there was blood, not too much of it though, but it was also some other weird liquid pouring out. I laughed nervously at the irony of my uselessness surrounding this awkward attempt, and then tried to fall asleep, even though stress and fear was racing through my head, hoping I'd die in a careless slumber. It all healed up by itself eventually and left some ugly scars, though I was really unsure if it ever would when I first looked at the bleeding gaps in my skin. Somehow, I was more scared of showing it to anyone, than to let it get messed up. After all, I sort of did feel as if I was done with life at that point. And I was blissfully unaware of how lucky I actually was not to have severed anything important and to still have a functioning hand to make use of. During this event, I was in a completely sober state. Although, the adrenaline probably numbed some of the discomfort that otherwise might've worsened the experience.
These days, when I look back, I can honestly say I'm glad I did not succeed, that I did not leave blood, gore and a pale corpse for my relatives to find. Also, that I got to see how wrong I was regarding a lot of phenomenons in life. I used to feel so stupid and weird when I looked around at society. I thought everyone else was so perfect and I myself did not amount to shit. I did not want to amount to shit because I knew that would mean I'd have to use my neighboring humans as stepping-stones. All I wished for was to be left alone and live in peace far away from it all. My motivation was to escape from my twisted view of myself and the mental agony surrounding everyday life. O, such a relief it was once I got my own apartment and pretty much cut all ties with my so-called friends. I started living like a hermit with no interest in social activities. Sure, I treat people with respect and I socialize at work, not more than I deem necessary though, and spend my spare time mostly by myself doing shit I like. Playing games, reading books and taking walks out in the woods. Don't get me wrong, it can be a nice thing to socialize, but it gets rather tiresome doing it with 'mindless puppets' all the time. Maybe a few of them are smarter than they let on — because it's annoying to reveal your true feelings and get judged at times. So, I totally understand and respect that we all have our personas to maintain. My point being, it most often feels like interacting with plastic people. I've pondered a lot about life and the meaning behind it. And I feel somewhat content regarding my various potential conclusions surrounding this subject. I am not one to preach and claim that I know such matters with full certainty. I only mean to say I have a strong hunch which to me personally is enough to feel satisfied, even if I turn out to be wrong in the end, which is a very high probability since I am nothing but a puny human, it is still a spark of hope.
Now I am having these morbid thoughts for altogether different reasons. I've left detailed notes to everyone closely related. I am thankful for everything that has happened to me. There have been a lot of darkness at times, but in the end it has transformed me into the being I am today. No more am I escaping society. I am leaving it behind me. I truly feel at peace with facing the next stage of our existence — if there is one — if not, I have at least followed my moral compass and honored my personal beliefs. At my final moments, I am at peace with myself as much as with everyone else. I am not angry with anyone for their behavior, rather I've started to think that maybe each of us has some sort of twisted lesson to grasp here on earth. When we are done and see life for what it is, death is no longer such a big deal anymore. I admit it can be a rather frightening step to take. Though, at the same time, I feel like this is my final test in life. How I face my demise ought to say a lot about the core of my innermost being. I may also add, in my humble opinion, courage is not walking carelessly through danger, it's facing your fears and pushing through, while battling a shitstorm of unstable emotions circling within you.
What has helped me the most to achieve this sensation of acceptance, I think is my newfound view of the world, which I've also sort of managed to portray within a fictional novel, not in english though, as a sort of final farewell to whomever decides to read it. It felt like an effective way to express my feelings instead of just leaving in silence. Even if it remains unread and gathers dust, I have still left it there. I get the impression that this forum could work in a similar manner for a lot of its members. By sharing our points of view and provoke healthy thoughts within one another, we may spread the message that there is a difference between escaping and leaving, and discourage the escape route, encouraging those being in an ambivalent state of mind to consider that something may come from giving life an honest wholehearted attempt, if they don't like it, then they are indeed free to leave — but it is always sad seeing people escape!
Another reason for feeling rather calm is probably thanks to the fact that I have prepared things to my utmost ability in order not to burden anyone. I have, in my notes, explained why I do this and that there is no reason to feel sorry. I've made it very clear that I hold no grudges toward anyone. I just wish to pass on and see what's next. No hate involved. Try making peace in such a manner and it may very well aid you in your ethereal journey.
All in all, the message I'm trying to pass on is that I urge all those ambivalent souls out there, who's asking others for a second opinion, not to end their existence in an impulsive act of desperation. Rather, think it through, and give life a chance. Try your best at finding new views on all worldly matters. I mean, dare flipping people of if they bug you, speak your heart when you feel the urge to do so, don't let people walk over you. Take risks when you feel odds are in your favor. If it all falls apart you can always use your bus ticket later — it has no expiration date.
Even though a lot of people might have no other choice than to leave in sorrow and desperation, I sincerely wish everyone about to leave will reach a state where they may set off on their final journey with a serene sort of determination!
