THE LAST TIME I COMMITTED SUICIDE

January 11th, 2005
was the last time I committed suicide.
It wasn't the first time,
it was just the last time
thus far.

I had been on my knees
praying
sobbing
for hours
days
weeks
I had no idea
how long it had been
and again had come
to only one
multifaceted conclusion...
This is not my planet.
I have no idea what I'm doing here.
I want to be with God.
I can't take it anymore.

I had written
"It's Over"
on the bathroom mirror,
wanting to add "... finally",
but didn't,
because those who knew
would understand anyway.

This was it
for me.
No more planet earth.
No more mean people.
no more liars
and haters
and bored, malicious joiners
in campaigns of destruction.
No more
sadness
and
confusion
and
victimization.

The last time I committed suicide
I was alone for days.
Alone to contemplate
how much I hated
being a part of this species.
How much I hated the cruelty
performed and allowed.
How much I hated hate.

I had it all set up
and I cried
and cried
for ours
for hours.

I thought I knew
that the people that knew
me
well
would understand
how much I have always
disliked being on planet earth.

They would understand.

Although sad,
perhaps,
they would understand
that I finally got off this planet
which is what I always wanted to do.

I thought about many things.
But
It Was Over.
I was done with this.

I had experienced such pure
and calculated evil
that every theory I had
about the presence of such
had been proven to me
in a kind of enormity
that proved I was right
and would
perhaps,
be understood
in my decision to exit.

I cried and prayed for hours.
Ready.

At some point
I realized
that the next day
January 12th
was my boyfriend's birthday.
I hadn't been dating him long
at that point,
and it was long distance,
but there was something about his soul.

He is one of those pure
and honest
beings
that are so very rare.
A good person,
Really Good.
One that thinks about
things like God
and other people's feelings,
especially mine.
Although I have no idea
what anyone is doing here,
especially the good people,
I thought of his earth life.
I thought about the fact
that no matter what he did
for the rest of his life,
his birthday
would always be
the day after
his girlfriend
killed herself.

It may have been years from now,
but no matter what
it would always be
the day after
his girlfriend
killed herself.

And he did not deserve that.
Not at all.
As stupid as life
and people
and birthdays are
this was one person
who did not deserve
to be haunted
by my escape
of planet earth
and have to stay here
anyway.

The last time I committed suicide
I got conflicted
and I stayed.

I don't know why we are here,
but for some reason,
I'm here.
I decided to stick around
again
and try to figure it out
or not figure it out,
whichever.

I'm still here.
Eternally conflicted.

Still.

The last time I committed suicide
again
convinced me
that
for whatever reason
near death experiences
are won
thus far
and understood
by waking up the next day
anyway.

And the next day
was
so
much
better.