I Need To Talk About Death

       So I got talking with this guy, and over the past few months I learned he lost someone. He said she's in a better place. The topic turned to suicide and I said I happen to think of it on occasion (well, almost every day and night, but I'm trying this whole new positivity thing) and he told me not to. So now, my dear nonexistent readers, I'm truly confused. Why is it okay for someone he loves to be in a better place, but not a stranger? Hell, if someone thinks of me as a friend, why would they ask me to extend my suffering as a favor to them? And then, plot twist, celebrate me getting older. Even laughing at those "Under the hill" cards.

      I mean, instead of freaking out about my suicide talk, what I really want is for someone to give me some clarity. Just clarity, that's all I want in life. Death is not a horrifying, repulsive subject like having a crush on your dad, okay? It's a natural freaking part of life! Don't people get that?

      Told me not to, like I can just wish it all away on a dandelion fluff. "Don't do it," the most convincing argument I've ever heard. Why is it okay for her suffering to end, but not mine? I'm a good person. I never retaliated when someone hurt me, I never tattled on that kid who tried to trip me in class, never got detention, never got grounded. Why shouldn't I be able to take away the pain when medication and therapy have failed?

      Is death gruesome? Yes... But let's be real. I have multiple organ failure. I'd much rather go out on my own terms. And I'd want the people who say they love me to prove it and accept that, instead of asking me to endure everything on their behalf. I am tired of having a charity existence! It is cruel to ask someone to keep living! It is the most hateful thing you can say to someone! I am so tired of being asked to suffer for as long as I can "because I love you." Just stop with that! Freaking stop with the manipulations.

      Our feelings are more transient than we are, and we are so inconsequential. Everybody dies and life goes on. We get over it, so get over it. I'm suicidal, take it or leave it. It's a quirk, like the weirdoes who like getting up early or going shoe-shopping, or who think getting pregnant on a planet with over 150 million orphans, is a "blessing."

      Clarity. Clarity on all the hypocrisy―please!