Jealous Blackheart
A Well Read Demon
- Aug 25, 2023
- 167
For a moment I considered putting a trigger warning but this is a suicide forum and this is not recovery.
When I was a teenager I had a conversation with my father. It was about the worst crime. It was a question. My answer was rape. It was the first thing that came to mind. It's just that it doesn't leave you. You will never feel clean again. You'll never be able to wash it off. No amount of showers will do. You can never scrub your hands hard enough. The involuntary flinch if someone gets too close. The touch aversion. It doesn't take up space but it's always stuck to you, like your shadow. It can't be undone. It's just always there.
My father disagreed. His answer was kidnapping. Because for the rest of their lives, the family will never know. They'll never have closure. They will spend the rest of their lives wondering. Who? Where? Are they alive? Will they ever come back? Uncertainty will haunt them forever. He wasn't thinking about the victim, but I still understood it.
Back when I was still fighting and looking for a reason to live, thinking I could get better, I gave myself a month. A month to let the feeling pass. A month of genuine effort of living. Then I'd end things. This was somewhere around year 20.
The month passed. I tried. I didn't get better. I kept thinking about what my father said about kidnapping. Not knowing. And despite everything I thought I could at least say goodbye. Since my decision was rational and not impulsive. It could be better than leaving a note. I could explain. I didn't know how stupid of a decision that really was.
Absolving them of all fault and communicating as gently as possible, I said I didn't want to be here anymore but I didn't want to kidnap myself. My father called me evil. Told me it was wicked to say something like that in front of my mother. I spent the rest of that talk listening to what a horrible person I was. Talking to people about being suicidal, even the people who say, "you can talk to me, I'm here for you" has always been a terrible idea. It always backfires. I never spoke to anyone in my family about any issue I had after that. I help them when I can be useful. That's usually it.
So no one knows. And no one will know. I will not leave a note. I'm not saying goodbye. My goodbye is having my affairs in order. It's organizing everything for after I'm gone. It's having said everything that needs to be said so there's nothing on my mind. I've had years to make sure everyone knows the things they need to. I've already apologized to everyone I needed to. I've already given my blessing to everyone on their life journeys. And one day, hopefully soon, I just won't be here anyone. And I don't think it'll be the worst crime.
When I was a teenager I had a conversation with my father. It was about the worst crime. It was a question. My answer was rape. It was the first thing that came to mind. It's just that it doesn't leave you. You will never feel clean again. You'll never be able to wash it off. No amount of showers will do. You can never scrub your hands hard enough. The involuntary flinch if someone gets too close. The touch aversion. It doesn't take up space but it's always stuck to you, like your shadow. It can't be undone. It's just always there.
My father disagreed. His answer was kidnapping. Because for the rest of their lives, the family will never know. They'll never have closure. They will spend the rest of their lives wondering. Who? Where? Are they alive? Will they ever come back? Uncertainty will haunt them forever. He wasn't thinking about the victim, but I still understood it.
Back when I was still fighting and looking for a reason to live, thinking I could get better, I gave myself a month. A month to let the feeling pass. A month of genuine effort of living. Then I'd end things. This was somewhere around year 20.
The month passed. I tried. I didn't get better. I kept thinking about what my father said about kidnapping. Not knowing. And despite everything I thought I could at least say goodbye. Since my decision was rational and not impulsive. It could be better than leaving a note. I could explain. I didn't know how stupid of a decision that really was.
Absolving them of all fault and communicating as gently as possible, I said I didn't want to be here anymore but I didn't want to kidnap myself. My father called me evil. Told me it was wicked to say something like that in front of my mother. I spent the rest of that talk listening to what a horrible person I was. Talking to people about being suicidal, even the people who say, "you can talk to me, I'm here for you" has always been a terrible idea. It always backfires. I never spoke to anyone in my family about any issue I had after that. I help them when I can be useful. That's usually it.
So no one knows. And no one will know. I will not leave a note. I'm not saying goodbye. My goodbye is having my affairs in order. It's organizing everything for after I'm gone. It's having said everything that needs to be said so there's nothing on my mind. I've had years to make sure everyone knows the things they need to. I've already apologized to everyone I needed to. I've already given my blessing to everyone on their life journeys. And one day, hopefully soon, I just won't be here anyone. And I don't think it'll be the worst crime.
