In other happy news, guess who was suicidal again?
Yep me. And probably other countless students who had to go through finals in this dreary place. And while I don’t want to hash out all the details (because let’s face it, we’ve been there) I want to share something that was different this time.
Usually when I get to these places my mind is crowded with all the things I should do. How should I do it? Where should I do it? Do I leave a note? Where would I leave the note? Who do I even write a note to? What about the people I left behind? How will they feel about this? Should I clean my room? What about packing up my stuff? Could I leave that to my mom? What about my bills? My student loans, she shouldn’t have to deal with those….
Seriously it just goes on and on. But when I went to my not-so-happy place this time I asked myself another question, one that (even though I’ve contemplated suicide since I was eight and thought 10 Ibuprofen would kill me) I hadn’t asked myself yet. What will death be like? Not so much dying but what happens after? It shocked me to realize I had never asked that and also that I was so far gone that I would even ask that. So I seriously thought about it and here is what I came up with.
Numero Un: The cynics are correct; nothing happens. It’s just a dark abyss of absolutely nothing.
Numero Dos: I go to hell. I mean I killed myself right? That’s a sin right? I’m going to hell. Not to mention the happy fact that I’m gay and I’m generally not content unless I’m “sinning” in one form or another. Really by most doctrine I’m straight up damned. Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth is the (after) life for me. Awesome.
Numero Twa: I go somewhere. Maybe not heaven, but just a place that we go. One of the Mormon doctrines that I really liked was talking about how the spirit world was actually earth and spirits are just roaming here. I spent the most time contemplating this one and I’m (almost) ashamed to say I was really drawn to it. I mean I can imagine my welcoming party consisting of my grandma Sandra, Uncle Skip, my cousin Stephi… maybe even my grandpa would show up even though I’ve never met him (my mom says we would have gotten along well). I would run up and give my grams a hug and tell her how much I missed her and how much mom and Mikey miss her as well. Skip would ask me what I learned in my experiences at Earth (as is the way of Skip. He used to ask me every day when I got home from school what I learned that day.) Grandpa Sam would probably introduce himself and maybe make a comment on the years I spent taking care of his wife (like I said, never met the man but I did look after his wife (my great grandma Sarah (and yes this is a parenthesis within a parenthesis (paran-ception))) so maybe he’d have something to say to me). I would also bombard Stephi with questions. Why she did it? Does she reject it? Could any of us have helped?
After I got settled I could imagine my afterlife…
I could imagine Stephi and me going to different museums. She could teach me how to paint (she was the first person who introduced me to art) and we could travel the world painting random landscapes. And have a never ending art supply. The world would literally be our canvas. It could be amazing.
I could imagine going to concerts with my grandmother. She could introduce me to all the songs that were the background to my childhood and I could introduce her to bands I’d think she’d like today (mainly Deadtooth but she might have some appreciation for Mortigi Tempo… my grandma’s a hard ass). We could have private chats with all the dead greats (as unoriginal as it may be I kind of want to meet Kurt Cobain) and sneak into live shows. Hang out backstage and listen in on their jam sessions. It would be like being a groupie but without all the promiscuous sex.
I could imagine my Uncle Skip joining my grandmother and me for our musical education. I could imagine fishing with my grandfather. I don’t even know if he used to fish but I can imagine it would be something we would enjoy doing together.
My life could be pretty damn swell if I was dead.
But that’s not how I should be looking at it. Yes I can appreciate that death could be awesome. Could be. But who knows what will actually happen. And right now I need to live my life. What about all the things I would miss if I died? Like having kids and getting married and owning a home. Those things sound so 1950’s America but I’m kind of drawn to them. Or what if I hopped in a RV and traveled the states or hitchhiked to South America or caught a boat to Europe to backpack some more. I could do so much and most of the time I can tell myself that and not worry too much about being constantly suicidal but this time…
I guess what scared me the most this last time was that I wasn’t just running away from everything… I was trying to run toward something.