Suicide is Best


by Amby

My friend always told me that contemplating suicide was the easiest decision she ever made. Mind you she attempted this feat at least five times and punked out each time. She finally met her demise while casually walking across a naked street. She was struck by a stray bullet that was not meant for her but for a twelve year old selling on the corner... under a lamp post. How the fuck do you miss your target with a spotlight glooming over him? Anyway, I decided to end my miserable life on a Monday morning and set the stage for the event that afternoon. Easy as pie. I've always been one to commit to my decisions... always.


I decided to hang myself as a way of paying homage to my ancestors who died before me. I understand the irony of the situation but they were killed for sins usually not committed. My past sins had finally caught up with my new sins and I'm sure the future had harsher sins to complete. It was time to put myself and others out of misery and just let fate visit a little earlier than planned. It was time to give up.

I remembered seeing pictures of a hanging noose and thought how delicate and perfect they appeared. Beautiful cords wrapped around a perfect circle waiting to balance an imperfect life. Well, after many attempts I couldn't create one of these models of death, so I made a ghetto loop and prayed it would hold my ass up and do its job.


I bet you are wondering what brought this decision. The answer is quite simple. I'm a fuck up! From birth I fucked up by being born in a place of sand and dryness. As I grew older, I began to fuck up not only my life but everyone around me. The drinking, sexing any man who looked interested, the lack of interest in education, choice of friends... everything I touched turned to shit. Once my life crumbled I decided that I needed a new person to destroy. So, I had a daughter.

She was beautiful. Barely cried. At least that's what I remember. I drank a  lot while she was growing up. I should have noticed she was becoming a mini me. The abuse was the same. The choice of friends and men were replicas of my regrets. As hard as I tried to be a "role model" for her, she only inherited my anger, hatred, and selfishness that I lived with daily. She was destined to become what I never wanted her to be... me.


I thought I'd try again by having a son, but I screwed that up too. How do you raise a son in a loveless home? I was never known to be a hugger because I don't remember being hugged. I've been slapped by my dad and beaten by my step dad but never hugged. So now there is this precious boy in my care and raising him was hell! It wasn't his fault. I was the one that thought he should automatically grow up and be responsible. That never happened. He grew and disappeared without even giving me the courtesy of saying thanks for fucking up my life, Mom. Now, he's gone and she's gone and I'm left to live alone. So... Why live?

The highest place to jump from is the ceiling fan. I tied the rope around the shaft - I guess that's what it's called - and made sure that when I stood on the chair that my neck fit perfectly in the circle. I needed to make sure that when I jumped, that the noose would tighten and quickly break my neck. I didn't want to end up dangling from the fan shitting myself waiting to die because I didn't tie the rope right.


The dress I decided to die in was my wedding dress. It was a beautiful dress and deserved to be worn again. As I mounted the chair, which held me up in the exact position needed for my demise, I began to think about who would find me and what would be said about what I did. That was a big issue for me. I cared too damn much about what others said. Fuck it. It's my time to take control of my life.

I gently placed my head in the circle making sure that I did not mess up my hair in the process. As I tightened the coils around my neck, I felt one tear stain my face as it stubbornly made its way down my cheek. I closed my eyes before anymore courage left my body and I jumped.


The last thing I heard was the creaking of the ceiling fan struggling to hold my body in place. I felt the last breath leave my body and then I saw something I had been waiting to see all my life. Everyone I knew, loved, and hurt were finally cheering and smiling because I did something right. Without me around, feelings would not be hurt. My children were saying I love you and I knew that they would be better off without me. Even the ones who harmed me in the past rejoiced in my death because now they did not have to show remorse for what was done.

My life was over. Everyone else's was just beginning. I finally did something to make others proud. I finally completed a task without giving up. I finally ended a life that never should have been.



(800)273-8255

Mental illness can be deadly. The residual can leave scars by association. Everyone involved needs to be transparent. Everyone involved needs to be determined to find balance and content. Find a psychologist. Be honest. Professional help is moot without honesty and transparency. If and when the mental trials become too great, call the number.



Comments