There's a Madness to My Method

It occurs to me that the people who visit this site, my blog, are afforded a modicum of anonymity. They can come and go as they please without really being identified. I have a good idea of who my returning customers are, and generally know the frequency with which they check my site (hi Dad, Dan and Angi!)(and also Marco and/or Tony!).

I, however, am not afforded the luxury of being able to simply say something and be heard without obvious repercussions coming from certain members of my audience. I can't critique things my family does that annoys me without either being told they're disappointed that I would publicly ridicule them for annoying things they may do (it's not that they do it, it's that I point it out) and I can't bitch and moan without being told that I'm being whiny by my truest of friends.

I do want to point out, once more, that this blog was never intended to be a place for me to communicate with people I actually talk to, but rather was meant to be a place for me to leave ideas to be heard without actually having to hold a discussion. I find that, regardless of where I go to write on these Interwebs, I have friends and family that always find me.

That is why I continue to write here. Because I've done it for four years now, and there's no point in stopping.

That said, I feel compelled to preface what I'm about to write with a very emphatic and confident message meant to assuage any concerns people might have about my state of mental health and well-being:

I am very comfortable where I am right now. I am very happy with my life as it is, and as it may be. I do not regret where I've been, or what I've done, and I certainly don't regret mistakes I have yet to make. I enjoy many things in my life, from driving a car to playing games with friends to sitting here tonight drinking this bottle of pinot noir all by myself. Though I sometimes feel lonely, I know I have friends (all across the world, in fact) and I am well-loved. I hope everyone is pretty comfortable with those assurances, because they are all true.

Now I can get to what I wanted to talk about: suicide.

As I've been driving lately, certain things (music in particular) have led me to what I believe is finally understanding why people commit suicide. I think I finally get the crazy logic behind why a person takes their own life. And when you finally match up all the edges to the puzzle and the picture is exposed, it doesn't really seem so crazy after all.

To me, the understanding came when I realized that I don't like being helpless or made to feel as such. Killing one's self is a very powerful way of establishing control over life - at least your own. In the end, when I've done all I feel I can do and contributed my fair share to this world, I have the feeling that killing myself might be a viable option. I sure as shit don't wanna wind up like my grandfather - lost inside my head, unable to communicate with people I may not even remember, body withered and failing. To me, there is no point to continuing on if I can't follow Heroes from week-to-week (if I can't remember what happened last week, I might also forget to watch the show the following week ... if I ever get to that point, someone needs to shoot me if I forget).

I don't find suicide to be selfish. I don't think it's immoral. I also don't think attempting it in a way that doesn't disturb the public should be illegal. But I think it's wasteful if you aren't damned sure that you have nothing left to offer the world.

And to those of you who may read this and think that's a green light to hang yourself, I urge you first to contact me as I may be able to find a pretty good reason for you to go on living. Because, honestly, if you're mobile, capable of recalling the day of the week and your full name, and have even the slightest iota of learning potential, you're still a valuable and potentially productive member of society - put down the bottle of pills, step off the ledge and gimme the gun.

Otherwise, I'll see you in Hell. ;-)