On Suicide & What Isn’t Quite Suicide

I only now realized that in the past few months, I had been close–very, very close indeed–to being suicidal.

It’s not that I wanted to kill myself, however. It was just that I wanted to die. I’m not sure if that spells a difference in the clinical definition of “suicidal people”, but I just feel like I have to make the distinction. I didn’t want to harm myself. I didn’t cut, I didn’t abuse substances. All I wanted was simply for everything to end. I did want death, but not by my own hands.

I have always had plans to buy (or somehow acquire) a gun and shoot myself in the face or the chest with it. It seems like the best and sure way to end a life: shooting an organ as important as the brain or the heart would kill you quickly, and thus spare you the pain while getting the job done. I would mull over my other option often, though: jumping off a high place would be nice, I often think–would be awesome to feel the wind on your face as you plummet. I also consider drinking poison, jumping in front of a large speeding vehicle, and bleeding myself to death. Getting into a fatal fight would also be an exciting choice, if only it were a little more certain to bring death.

But even as I fantasize about these morbid (and beautiful, truly beautiful) scenarios in my head, I know for a fact that I still fear death. This much is evident in how my heart speeds up when I come too close to a speeding car, or when I happen to be travelling in bad weather. It is most likely due to the fear of pain, though. But this incandescent fear is nearly matched in luminosity by the curiosity as to what will happen after–if there is an after–and the overwhelming need to be away from absolutely everyone and everything, which seemed to permeate every corner of my mind in the past few months.

I’m not sure if that still constitutes as suicide, you know, the “wanting not to die from your own hands” part. I do have 10 out of the 11 signs stated above, though. I’m not sure who I can ask for help around these parts, or if I do need help; I’ve actually been a lot better since the start of the school year, and my plans of seeking professional help for my mental issues seem to have been slowly taking the back seat over the days. I’m far from being well, though. A long way off, as long as the walk to Eden, probably. And I guess that means I still have to get myself better.

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