*this is most likely jam packed w/ triggers*
last night i spoke with a friend on the phone and towards the end of the conversation we stumbled upon the topic of suicide by way of the fact that a mutual friend is in that danger zone.
the topic upsets me...obviously...but it like really really pushes my buttons. and for good reason i guess since i've lost so many to suicide. so many, i'm afraid if i tried to list them i'd forget somebody...so best to just say many.
its this tight rope i walk balancing complete compassionate sadness and frustrated anger. cuz ya know ...once they're dead ...they're dead. we the living have to cope with it all.
why didn't they call me? why didn't anyone intervene? fuck them anyway for giving up and leaving me this hole to fill. smudged smearing thoughts of maybe some people just aren't meant to live. frantic far flung thoughts blaming everything but them. a victim with the last ditch self determined effort to escape to the land of the dead...or a victim to the end because oppressive force # 8072 certainly pulled the trigger, popped the pill cap or found the vein.
have i forgiven them? was it even their fault? does there need to be a fault?
my ex girlfriend didn't even want to die,not when it came down to the wire. she took a bunch of pills then changed her goddam mind, phoned a recent ex and begged for help. but that recent ex thought it was just more drama...and didn't help. didn't help.
9 days her body sat till a neighbor caught a whiff.
at least her dog stayed by her side.
certainly my tears say forgiven. certainly 9 days screams what the hell is wrong with our sense of community.
we the living have to forgive ourselves our selfishness, our limits. have compassion for the limits of others. sometimes we fall through the cracks.
and humans can be so cruel. and sometimes the cruelty breaks us.
sometimes sunrise just doesn't matter against the dull grey pain. i know this.
its a war.
i know this.
another friend drove herself out of the city, up into the mountains, wandered from her car and died in the forest. they found something like 20 different prescriptions from several different doctors on the floor of her car. certainly this smacks of oppressive force # 8073...some might even call it murder.
if you dig deep enough , every suicide is a murder.
we the living, unbroken or beginning to splinter, stuck here coping with the mess, best face that next sunrise, look around, find the cracks, remember the forgotton and connect. feel everything. because you know, once we're dead...we're dead.