w4ntingtoletgo
Tired
- Feb 27, 2024
- 5
For me it was the past year or so. I didn't know there was a specific name for it until a couple months ago. "Passive suicidal ideation". I've spent half of my life like this before it eventually changed to a clear intention. It was always a thought sitting in the back of my mind, like a shadow in the background of every memory. It felt like a close but somehow still very remote possibility, kind of a freak accident that would be very unlikely to take place but still could if the right conditions permitted it. But then, after so much time, after so many punishments given by life and so many unanswered prayers and efforts, I began thinking what it would have been like to actually take my life and the illusion of a chance started to dissipate slowly. It started off as a "I will do it in 10 years". Then they turned into 8, then 5, then 2, and then into a "as soon as I get the chance to do so".
I guess it took me so much time because I liked to believe that it would be like what we see in books and movies, where even if you suffer like hell you're still able to make it out alive and well and you get a happy ending. Because it can't end like this, right? But it's just a lie. It can and will end like this. Some lives are just tragedy and nothing else. I prayed and pleaded for something or someone to save me, but nothing and no one ever did. And I surely can't. I thought the universe wouldn't give up on me, that it would fight to let me stay, that I mattered, but I don't. I never did. I'm not one in a million, I'm just one desperate person among many.
I also think I lasted all this time because I clung to the hope that the remote possibility of healing meant being able to completely erase who I have been up until now and become a new person, but that's not possible. I would always be forced to bring this burden with me. I don't even think healing would work with me anymore tbh. I'm too far gone, too detached from everything and everyone.
So this is it. If only I had known earlier, I certainly wouldn't have resisted this much for nothing. I wish I hadn't been such an idiot. I just wanted to put the truth out somewhere.
I guess it took me so much time because I liked to believe that it would be like what we see in books and movies, where even if you suffer like hell you're still able to make it out alive and well and you get a happy ending. Because it can't end like this, right? But it's just a lie. It can and will end like this. Some lives are just tragedy and nothing else. I prayed and pleaded for something or someone to save me, but nothing and no one ever did. And I surely can't. I thought the universe wouldn't give up on me, that it would fight to let me stay, that I mattered, but I don't. I never did. I'm not one in a million, I'm just one desperate person among many.
I also think I lasted all this time because I clung to the hope that the remote possibility of healing meant being able to completely erase who I have been up until now and become a new person, but that's not possible. I would always be forced to bring this burden with me. I don't even think healing would work with me anymore tbh. I'm too far gone, too detached from everything and everyone.
So this is it. If only I had known earlier, I certainly wouldn't have resisted this much for nothing. I wish I hadn't been such an idiot. I just wanted to put the truth out somewhere.