The other day I tried to kill myself. But I didnt die, obviously.

I had it all planned out and everythingit was elegant and simple, like a math problem, at least, I thought it was. I had a simple way to end a life. But I didnt. I didnt. I didnt. I didnt. I didnt. Id chosen not to write a suicide note. Instead, I divvied all my belongings for mom, dad, brother, and friends and acquaintances. I had couple of sentences for mom and dad and bro and Skyler. For mom and dad, I said, I love you and Im really sorry. Dont miss me. Im sorry. Its not your fault and I love you so much. For my brother: Live it for me, bro, youre living for both of us, now. For Skyler: Until I see you again. You know, Id actually almost forgotten about Skyler. Ive tried so hard in two years to forget about him, but then I wrote it during that phone call. While he was talking, I wrote it on a post-it note. Or I wouldnt have been able to go in peace, and I didnt want to have any second thoughts, so I had to write him something. But as you know, I didnt die. The notes are still on my table, taunting me. Skylers note is just sneering at my face. Im going to rip up its sneering face later. Its laughing at metheyre all laughing at me for my failure. They always do. I dont know why Im still sitting here. I wished to die. I wanted to forget all this shit thats happening to me. I want to end everything and forget. I want to sleep. Im not alright. But I dont care. I stopped caring long time ago. Youll call me sad and depressed but I dont care. Why does it matter to you anyways? I want to die, thats it. To me, it the same thing as asking, I want pony for Christmas. Simple as that. Except that this Christmas, Im getting that pony while you arent. Feeling jealous? Its so funny, I think, how the world works out sometimes. In one end of the world, there are people spending millions and millions of their fortune to live one more year longer, one more year younger, and across the street are people who cant wait until they die. Whenever Caldwell argues why bad things happen to good people I want to tell him he has no right to judge what is good and bad for someone else. I want to tell him I want to die but I cant because people dont want me to. You have no right to tell me that living is good for me because I really want to die. So I dont say that to Caldwell because hell report me and Ill probably get a session with a shrink. I dont want thatI dont want to live. But no, theyre always trying to force their beliefs on me so they want me to live. I think thats being selfish, as selfish as I am being when Im ignoring the pain that I would cause if I killed myself. Were all selfish. Were all dogs in the end. But I dont care anymore. It doesnt matterIm supposed to be dead. Its not your business to care about what I believe. Its not your business to care if I live or not. I dont care about myself so why should you care about me? I had planned this for months. I knew I wanted to die for a whileI just wasnt sure when. I wanted it to happen not when stuff in my life turned shittythat would tell people that I was simply depressed. I wasnt simply depressed. Whoever kills himself because he is simply depressed is like saying caviar is

disgusting in first taste. Caviar is an acquired taste, like wine. I dont like wine, but I like caviar. Sure, it can taste pretty nasty if you try it for the first time but once you get used to it, you like it. I liked caviar the first time but Im quarter Russian. Maybe that helps, but I dont know what thats got to do with anything. Who gives a shit now. Caviar takes time to get used to. Its an acquired taste. Depression is the same way. First it is pretty shitty. Then you get used to it. You take some perverse pleasure from being down. You hope that someone would notice, yet at the same time you dont want to be noticed because you want it to last. Its a pretty perverse pleasure. Its wrong. Youre just wasting air. Youre just wasting resources that can be used for more productive purposes. Living is so pointless sometimes. Im not worth the air I breathe. Im lazy, Im passive, Im pretty dumb, Im not social, Im no good. Ive failed so much thats it not even funny. If someone wrote a book about me, failure would be strongest of the themes. Itd be better if someone else better than me lives. Someone more suited to live in this world, someone who is less thoughtful about how he lives so he can actually get shit done instead of like me, thinking too much and doing nothing. So what Im trying to say is that you have to kill yourself for the right reasons. Just killing yourself because youre depressed with the way your life is turning out is not enough reason. Its being childish. You have to think about why youre killing yourself for awhile. You have to be serious about it. It cant just be impulsive. Hell, why do I care? Im supposed to be dead. Im not supposed to think anymore. I didnt want to die like normal people. I wanted to show myself as someone different. I wanted to kill myself when my life wasnt shitty. I had thought about killing myself for a while before it turned shitty, but when it got shitty, I really wanted to kill myself. But me, being a connoisseur I am, I decided to wait until things looked up to kill myself. Im trying to be sarcastic. I wanted to know that I was a master of myself and my life. I wanted the people to know that I was a master of myself. I didnt want to be led by some crazy hormone surges. (Isnt that what its about? You wish to be the master of your fate, captain of your soul. Its pretty dumb. But just the lines, they sound great, dont they? Its the blackest lie in the world, to be master of anything. Its pointless. Its misleading and pointless. First, because its impossible. Second, and then what? Control your fate and you have a perfect man therean Adonis, a god or something. But no ones perfect and you cant control your fate. Heck, you cant even control when you want to take a piss.) So I waited until my life seemed to turn up again. It took awhile, but I got there. I wanted to end it so much during those shitty times, but I didnt. I have standards too, you know. It was the longest wait ever. But I waited. Its probably the most impressive thing Ive ever done in my life, in my standards. Its one of the hardest thing Ive done, to wait until my own death. And I had it all planned out. It was great. It was simple and elegant. All I had to do was pull an allnighter one night and take a handful of sleeping pills and slip on a plastic bag over my head before I fell asleep the next night. It was so goddamn simple. Painless, exactly like going to sleep. And people wont

even notice that I was gone the next day because I would have told everyone that I pulled an all-nighter. They wouldnt expect me to see until past noon. By then, I would be out cold. Sure, theyd wonder why Id killed myself just when life was turning up. Theyd wonder why I didnt even bother to leave much of a suicide note. (Yes, I wrote good-bye notes, but theyre not the same. Suicide notes are supposed to be meaningful and the good-bye noteswelljust good-byes, nothing more). Theyll probably wonder at the way I divided up my stuff, but who cares. I wouldnt care. They wouldnt have known that Id wanted to die way before they ever could guess. I dont even keep a journal. I think Ill like it that way, give them something to chew on. Give them something real to think abouttalk aboutsomething more important than who is whosomething real, something meaningful. Instead of talking about whos right and whos not. Instead of sitting at their rooms sitting on their flabby asses and just talking. Instead of going outside and getting shit done. Running around, doing stuff with their hands, go to a play or concert, I dont know. I want to kick them out of their bubble because I wish someone had kicked me out of my bubble. I wished someone had kicked me in my ass so hard that I burst through my bubble, rolled down the hill, and found myself taken along by the waves of the ocean that surged around my bubble-world. You discuss about stuff nowadays. Its not supposed to get emotional. If you get emotional, then everything goes to hell. They want it cool, rational, and logical, while Im sitting in the corner, burning up with passion in my body. When I want it to get emotional. I want them to laugh and yell and curse and try to explore the side of darkness in all of us. The darkness where bad dreams come from. That darkness that cannot be overcome. To feel that darkness, to embrace it, to kiss it, to love it. To become an animal again. To remember that we are flesh and bone and it all goes back to dust. That we are locked in a savage struggle for dominance. Goddamn it, I just want to grab a hold of their hair and shake them up. Yell in their face to wake up and look at yourself. Look at the world around them. I really hoped that I wont be hurting anyone by killing myself. I dont want to cause anyone any pain than there needs to be in this world. I got sick of the pain and I dont want people to feel them. Especially mom and dad. I feel bad. Maybe I should have written a longer note for them. Hell, why do I care? Im not dead. It doesnt matter. But still, I dont want to cause them any pain. And my brother. Well, he had to harden up. Hes been too sheltered. Maybe it would have done him some good, who knows. Hes a good boy, though. Hes a nice kid. He can make the world a better place than I ever can. Ive always wanted to die. But, you know, Im really not afraid of dying. There is nothing to fear, perhaps except for the pain. Im scared of the painI dont like pain. No one likes pain. I thought about cutting myself but I thought I would be too scared to do that. I dont like pain. I thought about drowning myself in the river, but I dont like the feeling of drowning. And I can swim. How am I going to drown if I can swim? I swim really well. What about the caffeine pills? Everyone has them. But then it might look like an accident and I dont want that. No, but the good-bye notes would clear up that mess. Im not afraid of dyingIm afraid of the pain. I thought about taking all my aspirins and all my caffeine pills at the same time but I havent taken enough endocrinology or whatever class I need to know how that would react with my body. It might make my heart pump like crazy and I know Ill definitely feel that.

Ive had that feeling before, and it is one of the most exciting things Ive ever feltthat mechanical, fake, heartbeats caused by caffeine pills. Thats why I had the plastic bag readyjust in case the sleeping pills didnt work, Id be suffocated. Jumping in front of a train? The closest train tract is an hour away. Too far. I actually thought about setting myself on fire. It would be a spectacular way of dying. Can you imagine a burning body running down the lawn, screaming? I would be a goddamn legend. But then, its painful, again. And it would be more effective if I was in some political or extremist group. Im not, so it would be mostly pointless except for the sight. God, I think it would be funny if it wasnt for the pain. I would be a legend. Id laugh so hard while I was burning and running crazy outside. But I think my cornea might be burned out so I might not be able to see other people screaming at me. I also thought about shooting myself, but I dont have a gun, and itd be too much of a hassle to get one. Hanging myself, I thought about that too, but I couldnt think of a place that could support my weight. Im not fat, but Im not skinny either and I wanted to die without making a fool of myself. And what if I end up twitching on that rope for twenty minutes? Painful and not very attractive. Mind you, Im not trying to make suicide a romantic thingI dont care what other people think about it, but I want it to be quick and simple and without pain. I want to end it in a quick, simple, and an elegant way without using too much money. After all, the money is going back to my parents for their debt. Ive got no health insurance, much less a life insurance. I wanted to leave as much of it intact. No property damage or lawsuit or anything. Itd be too messy. I actually thought about setting myself on fire for a long time because it meant that they wouldnt have to cremate me as long. Save my parents money. It would be worth the pain, I thought. And after all, since Im going to die, why does it matter that its painful? All I had to do was pour that gasoline on top of my head and light that match. That is it. Light the match. Id get these thoughts about killing myself so realistically sometimes that I felt like I was actually doing it. I would be thinking about hanging myself and I could feel my throat going tight. I could feel an imaginary cord around my throat. I didnt choke, but I could feel something there, getting tighter and tighter without choking me. And I would realize Id stopped breathing and start breathing again. Its scary. Or I would imagine myself cutting and it would itch on my wrist or on my neck. Id feel to make sure it wasnt really bleeding. Its scary. Not dying, but what your body can think and respond to. Once I was standing by the road to cross the street and I was waiting for the cars to stop coming. And I wondered if I would die if I stepped in front of one. These cars were going only around 40-50 miles per hour and I wasnt sure if that would be enough to kill me instantly. F=ma and p=mv. I was actually trying to calculate how much force I would get hit with if I stepped in front of one to make sure I died instantly. I didnt want to end up in an emergency roomI wanted to die. And I got excited. I could feel my breath going shallower and faster until I it felt like Id ran a mile. I wasnt sweating though, just really excited. And I was still standing there on the side of the street and everybody passed me like nothing was wrong. To them, Im just a passerby. Im trivial. I felt so alone, but it was somehow comforting to know that I was completely alone, without anyone caring what I thought. I almost cried. Im not a coward. Dont call me a coward. Im not a coward. Im not going to say You dont know what Ive been through, because you probably have. It doesnt matter what I went throughits just that my choice in the end was death. Im not a coward. Im not shirking any responsibility. I told you that

I waited until things turned back up to kill myself because of that reason. I wanted to make sure everyone knew that I wasnt killing myself because I was simply depressed about the stuff I couldnt do or whatever complaints I had. I dont complain like that. Im not a coward. Dont call me a coward because of a choice I made. All choice I made was to face what you had to face in the future just several years sooner. You dont have a right to call me a coward. Pain doesnt matterthats my personal choice. I just dont like pain. How do you know that you wont die painfully? How do you know that ten years from now youre crying on a hospital bed, begging to be released from this life because of the physical pain? You dont know how you even want to die yourself. You have no right. I wont judge you, so I ask you to not to judge me. I had it all planned out. And it went great. I pulled an all-nighter and the next day I told everyone that I pulled an all-nighter and was expecting to sleep in. But no, it didnt work. I stopped. Goddamn it, I stopped. You know why? Because I ended up bawling my eyes out on my bed that night. I bawled and bawled, crying God, god, when I did not mean God. I did not mean it. Ask me why I use the word I so much and I cant answer that question without appealing to the English language as it is. Its like that. What the hell was I supposed to say, then? Oh, shit, shit? No, not classy. Not classy at all. I was crying God, god, when I was actually thinking, Skyler, Skyler. Because he called me that night, out of the blue. We hadnt talked for two years, and Id almost forgotten about him. Id almost forgotten about him after all weve been through. Crazy, huh? How do you forget about someone like that? I remember when we said goodbye two years ago I ended up bawling on my bed that night with the picture in my hand. I crumpled that picture and threw it away, trying to forget all the memories it carried. But that doesnt have anything to do with my suicide. Nothing. Its just that he called that night. I dont know why. He said hi and he asked me how I was doing. He told me he missed me that night. I told him I missed him too. But he didnt have any reason to call. We didnt talk about anything. We were on that phone for three and a half hours. And we talked about nothing. He just told me he missed me. Just out of the blue after two years of silence. What the hell. Goddamn it, he brought it all back. He brought it all back that I didnt want to remember. I went from zero to hundred in being pissed after we hung upall that calmness during the call disappeared. I couldnt go to sleep. I raged around the room cursing him out. I was mad, not exactly at him, but just mad. Mad at his call, mad at his voice, mad at everything he reminded me of. I was just mad. I shouldnt have been mad but I was. And I wondered why he called me first time in two years, too. Then I saw my calendar and saw that it was the second anniversary since our goodbye. Id forgotten about it and now it was hitting me with a force of a bullet. He called me exactly two years after we said goodbye. Damn it, he couldnt forget. How could he forget? I couldnt forget. I had to try so hard to forget. I could see him hesitating over that phone, trying to decide to call me or not. I could see him trying to decide whether to call or not on the first anniversary. But he didnt then. Then he couldnt hold himself and called me on the second anniversary. (Stranger thing is that I decided to kill myself on the night of the anniversary. How strange is that? It never registered in my conscious mind. It must have been festering in my subconscious, my id. I dont

know. I dont know how that worked out. What a coincidence, eh? How weird our mind is. How weird fate seems to be. What an unfortunate turnout of events). I raged around my room for how long. I lost track. I was swinging around my arms everywhere that I knocked over my clock and I didnt bother to take it back up. Then I crumpled onto my bed, crying, bawling my eyes out. I cried like no other. I lost control completely. I took off my shirt and used it to wipe the tears and the snot that was coming out of my face. I wanted to stop but I couldnt control myself. It hurt. And I was crying, God, god, when I didnt mean it. I couldnt stop thinking of Skyler. How could I? I could I have even almost forgotten about him? But it came back with a vengeance and it hit me so hard. I wrapped myself in that blanket and cried into my shirt. All that snot and tears got onto my favorite shirt. (Yeah, Id planned to die with my favorite shirt onI sound like Werther). But I ended up crying my heart out on that shirt. I would calm down for several minutes then begin to cry again. It was horrible. It hurt so much. My heart literally felt like it was breaking. My heart, that four-chambered organ. Over that heart is the sternum, a piece of bone. And it felt like it was breaking. Ive never had a broken bone but it felt like my sternum was breaking. I dont know how else I could put it. I couldnt breathe because of the pain. Like a fat devil decided to sit right on my sternum as I laid there crying. I could imagine my ribs curling inward because of the pressure. That pressure over my heart. Pressure on my head. Everywhere. It hurt so much. And I wanted to die so much but I couldnt move. I just laid there on my bed with my limbs contorting everywhere. I was curled up in a fetal position and I was losing myself. I couldnt hold myself. You would think that I was literally possessed by the devil. Sounds were coming from my mouth that you would have thought it was impossible to come from a human mouth. I was scared of myself. I had no control over myself. It was scary. God, it was horrible. I lost all control. It was bad. And you know whats funny? In the end, I wasnt even thinking about him anymore. But my body wouldnt let go. I couldnt cry anymore, but sounds were still coming from my mouth. My limbs were locked stiff in that position. I had a massive headache. And I was just so damn tired. I knew I had to kill myself. I knew I had to, but I couldnt move. That bottle of water and sleeping pills and the plastic bag (I had three plastic bags already put inside of each other to put over my head, you know that? I had everything prepared) were just sitting beside my bed within reach. But I was so tired. I was so mad. I tried to move but I couldnt. All I had to do was reach out with my arm to put those plastic bags over my head. I didnt even need the sleeping pills. I didnt want to move because I was just so tired. And I fell asleep like that. Just like that. With snot and tears all over the place and tied into a knot in my blanket. Fell asleep like a baby. Im pitiful. I hate it. I hate myself. Im weak. Im nothing. I hate myself for losing control. Its not fair. He called just as I was going to end everything. Goddamn it. Its not fair. It was all going to plan but in the end, it was ended by a goddamn phone call. I hate myself. Damn you, Skyler. I dont know why he called. He missed me, I guess, thats all. Im crying again. I cant help it. It hurts so much. Damn it, it hurts so much. It hurts so much because it meant so much to me.

Damn it, Skyler. I hope you die. You son of a bitch. I missed you. I hope you die. I hope you die so that we can see each other in the next life. I miss you.