Monday, July 26

Confessions of a Suicide Addict

When the beer stops flowing and the pills have all been pulverized, what then? This is when the suicide addict comes to be. The constant needfulness and expectation of gratification, which must needs be fulfilled, this is the defining phenomenon of suicide addiction. One consoles oneself with the fact that there is always that one thrill left to be had, just as long as the sun is still below the earth. One slice of the arm, surely not enough to die from, just enough to bleed and feel something after the numbness of the booze and psychoactive pharmakokinetic circusshow has subsided.
Let the blood flow a little, one thinks; one has enough, surely. If I die, then I win, and if I don't, I win. I kill doldrums with the knife, just as I kill myself with the knife. It's a new kind of gamble, like roulette, but with a blade instead of a pistol.
She isn't going to show up at 4am? Fuck it, I'll just let the blood flow a little bit to cheer myself up. The distraction is well worth the cost of bandages and derangement that builds up from the repeated offenses of the suicide addict.
Well now, that cut didn't quite do it, what about another, sharper this time and with some force, damn it. Don't be a pussy. Slice your fucking self like you mean it. Who gives a shit if you die anyway? They'll forget you soon enough. What will you ever contribute to the world, will it ever equal what you have taken from it?
These are the escalations of mood that occur from threshold of suicide elation to suicide intoxication.
They'll forget you ere long, mark my words.
When the sun begins to rise and the incipient rays of dawn encroach upon my lonely, bloody world, I've had enough, says the suicide addict. There will be more blood to shed later tonight. Now is for sleep. And what is sleep but a shorter death. Death is just the recuperation of the nous, or animus, or soul or whathaveyou, as sleep is the recuperation of the body. I can kill myself in as many lives as I like. It's all a win-win situation, this game of suicide. These are the ploys of the suicide addict.

1 comment:

  1. Burnt all the bridges I have passed
    No looking back to the life I once had
    -The hate for myself is all that's left now

    "As blood runs down my arms
    I feel peace in my heart..."

    On my skin the razor blade is shining bright
    The veins show clearly through, my blood is running wild

    This wrath that runs inside my veins
    This hate that burns inside the ruins of my heart
    I've got to let it out
    I can't control it anymore

    "As blood runs down my heart
    I feel peace in my heart..."

    On my skin the razor blade is shining bright
    The veins show clearly through, my blood is running wild
    The deep red flowing within, longing to be free
    A little pressure's all it takes to make me death

    -Sentenced "Bleed"