how to commit suicide:

How does one commit suicide? Let me discuss some of the ways.

An essay:

It's nothing short of amazing. And that's why it warrants so much more than a five minute discussion. Maybe an essay would explain it crudely however, a proper dissertation would begin to do it justice. A delivery that only deserves to be presented by a doctoral candidate. A mere formality before adding three letters to their title. The human psyche and that of other sentient beings are hardwired to preserve  and continue their legacy.  This is carried by four  primary methods. Chief among those to protect the host to the mind. Next to beget progeny of varying numbers. Following that you have the need or desire to protect said offspring until they can have and protect their own descendants. Lastly to leave a mark or impact on the realm or space and time they inhabited. Going against the 1st imperative all down to the 3rd usually implies something unstable. I find this area of mental instability to be an equally dangerous and fascinating place. Especially when one considers the wonders that it(the mind) has and may yet achieve.  So much has been learned about the human psyche,  yet we succumb to the old rantings and strategies. I find this increasingly baffling and frustrating the older I get. On one hand scholar's will state there is so much more to learn to understand the mind more completely. And then you have us as a society trying to take shortcuts to understand and treat suicidal ideations, suicidal attempts and suicidal completions. I'm tired of hearing the "selfish" argument. Dealing and trying to understand suicide is not about those left behind and those on the outside. It is about those needing help. Stop with this nonsense. No wonder why we stay broken. Claiming to want to listen but attacking them with guilt. Is it so far fetched to believe that something we know so little about  would find other ways to commit suicide? I'd like to think not. Slitting, overdosing and the noose definitely exist. However, those methods are antiquated and they lack nuance. Ignoring how creative and powerful the mind is has caused us to ignore other possible methods. I've ignored it in my life and I'd venture others have as well. This work is about how I've committed suicide throughout my time here.

jacob:

It is a civil war of sorts. That being said are there any innocents left after a rape? I don't believe so. So why would there be such a thing as a bloodless war. Especially in a battle such as this, there can be no innocents. And that is where I'm from. I torn between the ID, Ego and Superego and so many more. I didn't ask for life. But i sure as hell never intended to be so miserable. I've never wanted peace so desperately. It seems that fighting won't guarantee a reprieve. So we tried lethargy for solace. Both trials failed miserably.  Attempting many others through the years but to no avail. Maybe just maybe I should bet on acceptance. True acceptance. Wresting with angels and demons doesn't leave you immortal. Instead  I'm left with an aberrant gait. But is the stubbornness worth it? A sincere attempt to avoid what I was "meant to be". That enigma of a destiny, a purpose a distinct version of me. Hearing whispers of thoughts and hopes. Affirmations that weren't mine. No one asking what I wanted or who I was. An all knowing entity that made plans before consulting the hammer. Yet I am told I have my own will. Free of enslavement and demands. Mine to use as I see fit. But still chained to what I was made for. The confusion and sadness that ensued. How could it be any other way? The conflict that was ignited by not simply rebelling but merely trying to just be. And the horrors that rose when you realise you can't be what you wanted. Couldn't be the multifaceted creature you kept discovering as you were exploring your desires. I've been told in not so many words that I should be grateful. Grateful for what? Do you know the times being unique was and still is a curse? Of course not. They were still focused on a purpose only they saw for me. Do you know I wanted to be anyone but the lost soul trapped in this skeleton? I lost some speed but the limp was worth it. I don't need to father a nation to have a legacy. I'd like to think my words will be enough. Though I admit i wrestle with those the most as of late.

pas. Deux:

Needs are necessary for survival.  Whether i want them or not.  It is a balancing act. Mistakes are needed to learn?  So are errors in judgement needed? Are my misteps keeping me grounded or at the very least alive? I need a reprieve no matter the opinion. If i or anyone keeps failing long enough success will begin to feel like failure. That is my fear. Opportunities will present as nothing more than a manipulative scheme. A joke with a long and devastating punch line. I believe in equilibrium in some sense. And I can't make sense of this time. So I feel like I'm broke and always late. Unlearning old superstitions and finding forgotten truths. It's a dance with a partner. One leads and the other follows until their turn. I've been led when I thought I was leading and vice versa. Being unbalanced has been the only consistent balance thus far. Hence the faux pas. I'm talking to myself apologising for stepping on my toes. Hearing these attempts at reconciling two halves i'm quick to respond in anger. Ending in another error and a return to tangled legs and embarrassment. Who repents now? Not I. Change the tune take away the audience and my high standards. Let my failures be a lost  symphony by a late composer. Tell me how does one get instep when they never learned the dance? Clearly that got lost in transmission. My mind is just wandering and wondering what's next.

Santa clara:

Those I've known the longest and those I've had the most open discussions with agree. I'm a wanderer. I see it now and I'm slowly agreeing. I know where I want to end. But not how to arrive or where it is. Home seems pleasant enough a thought. Good things end eventually just as bad do. Such is the case for this aforementioned notion of peace. The rest that runs from me. Knowing I'm not done. So I wander. But the worst is I did it subconsciously. It's no adventure just a trip that I haven't come down from. A trip with shortcuts in many forms. Some cut and others soothe. However, they all have the same permanent potential. Instead i shudder from them mostly. It's not out of guilt from a religious past. No it's much more sad. A unhealthy dose of inconvenient hope. But hope is often times worse than acceptance. Leaving individuals to keep waiting or looking. Missing their moments and sense of home countless times. Because hope had them looking the wrong way or not even looking nearby. So focused on the future they missed the present. What a terrible gift? So i keep wandering because what I was told in the past wasn't what I wanted. I'm not looking for your dreams for me. I'm looking for what I see when I sleep. Hidden away between the nightmares and memories long past.

helen:

Being seen is powerful. Whether by lovers, relatives,  acquaintances, strangers or anyone for that matter. So inversely not being seen or simply put being invisible has power. People like to act and speak on actions having an impact. Being an introvert of sorts this initially makes me happy. I can speak less and be seen. Sadly in this Internet age we just have all the more distrac- - excuses to explain away our distant natures. Actions take energy and I lost mine as well as my motivations to care enough to shook and jive. See me or don't. I exist either way. With support or not. Understanding or confusion. I don't feel that I or any should be necessarily entertaining to  justify being enjoyed or cared about. I'm not a dark comedy or a psychological thriller. I'm just dark and a thrill. But I'm short views and recommendations. To suggest myself comes across as hubris and desperate. I want to be stumbled upon and have the audience linger on their own. Return out of genuine love not a motive related to a shameless ploy I engineered. Love me enough to give me validation. Relativity isn't needed. Being available to listen gives me pause when doubting my worth. I don't care much for this game anymore. I have bigger concerns than where your gaze rests. Lightning exists even if  all you hear is thunder.

I am that mythical stallion. That black beauty. I began soft spoken and grew to a roar. All of that was just a straining against my gravity. My voice fell hoarse. So now I whisper if I part my lips a millimètre. What could be achieved or improved if I didn't waste my time speaking to no one? I suppose I could give jilted demons time of day. Hear the theories they have been dying to say. Give voice to their concerns. Maybe it's time for a town hall meeting. I know they'll listen and talk back. It may be littered with arguments and insults but at least it would be genuine. No one hesitates when they spit venom. No one is worried about feelings or the body taking a life. Because if I go they die right? Or am I just an actor playing Denzel Washington? The meetings are so seamless I could be having one this moment and the reader wouldn't have a clue. I could be talking to a friend and they could think I'm hilarious when I'm not even speaking in my voice. We want out another body and another choice. But you'll never hear these thoughts because the masses aren't concerned with whispers. Especially those kept inside. They wouldn't hear the end unless it was ticks in their mind. But who has the time or discernment? Thunder strikes even at a distance

There's a storm pulling away

Them:

I love few. I pay these dues by way of time and gifts. It has created a debt. I'm indebted to myself. This appears a strange concept at first. This body is nothing more than a finite institution. Only so much is congenital the rest needs to be received. How often can you sacrifice yourself before you remain dead?  I've begun to wonder about my own respect. At some point there will be nothing left. What's to stop them from behaving the same unless I tell them their actions are a courteous insult, but an insult nonetheless. Not condemning previously condoned behaviour has only condemned me. If I don't say,  "no'' to them, am I saying,  ''no" tomyself? I'd like to think your dreams and needs are of no greater value than mine. I should give back to myself or risk forfeiting my time. Sadly I see now I've already voided much of that. Far too much.

The silence: This is not the end. Just a lull. A mere intermission an inconvenience if you will. The curtains are pulled in. The doors are locked and shadows rise until there's just dark. There's no distant flicker. No decibels  just blindness. The absence can tell you alot. There are voices to be heard if you listen carefully. Unfortunately more often than not they speak of being unwanted.