I've tried to kill myself 3 times. During the darkesst point of my life. The time I had nothing to pull me through. I had no light. The first time: I was gonna hang myself. I didn't dress up I was wearing my work uniform. I was holding the noose around my neck standing up deciding where to throw the rope. Then, someone walked in. He thought it was a joke and he laughed in my face. I was doing the most serious thing in my life and he laughed. So I decided to laugh too. I decided I was gonna make this a joke. That's what my life was at this point. One joke. Running from a punch line.
The second attempt on my life at my hand, I was alone. I was at home and no one would show up for hours. I dressed up. Wore my nice shoes. Combed my hair. Made my bed. Laid out the pills I was gonna take. All five bottles. I was lighting a candle, because I'm such a romantic. Then a cat walked in through the window. It jumped up on the counter and knocked over the bottles of pills. All five bottles. And left. I took this as a Devine intervention. I became quite the little church goer after that. I went every Wednesday and Sunday and helped out around church. Then the whole scenario wore off. I saw that an open window isn't a celestial being snapping his fingers saying:
“One more year. I give it one more tiny chance.”
The third time I wanted to kill myself. I didn't want it to be pretty. I wanted it to be something that people would be shocked about. I didn't want my undertaker to have something to work with. I just wanted closer. But I also wanted to be real and open for the first time. I was 20 stories up. Looking down on the city. I was in a hospital. I. Hate. Hospitals. I couldn't decide whether the fear of organ harvesting was what made me sick or if it was my schizophrenia acting up because I just saw a girl behind the counter that no one talked to or noticed or even knew existed in the mind of some 16 year old kid who was going to the bathroom for the fourth time in the past hour because he had to keep going there to put water in his eyes and flush the toilet to make sure he was real. I stared out the window. I watched the cars drive along and I decided how I was gonna do it. I held a heavy chair. And the third blue car I saw I was gonna charge and jump. Obviously I didn't. I still really can't tell you what stopped me. It wasn't someone laughing. it wasn't a cat the god did or didn't send. Maybe the chair got too heavy and maybe the girl behind the counter looked at me and smiled even though she probably didn't exist.
Maybe I still hate myself. But no one knows that. No on feels the pain I felt that night, like I feel everyday. No one visualizes me throwing a chair from a Jewish temple in a hospital through a window the way I did. And no one knows how I thought for a few minutes what if I miss pavement and the hospital saves me. WHAT IF I FUCK UP KILLING MYSELF AND HAVE TO EXPLAIN THAT TO MY DAD. What if I do kill myself and someone has to tell my family that I'm gay because I don't have the courage to tell him myself. No one understands that. But I guess the darkest storms bring the brightest rainbows. And, Yes. That is a gay joke
Created: Mar 08, 2014DyllanandDumber Document Media