You might think that up until this point objectively my life had been going great. If I had not hinted that everything I was doing was just a futile attempt of keeping my brain busy, to stop it from processing the emotions I was supposed to be feeling, you would’ve thought I had done a 180 in getting my life back together. But everything I had been doing, losing weight, cleaning up my appearance, dating again, getting back into old hobbies, starting my new job, all of it was just a cover up to hide the fact that I had lost something extremely important in my life forever. And in Summer of 2019 I had finally hit rock bottom despite my attempts to mask it, and at my lowest point I began to formulate a plan to end my life.
I had my life insurance policies and my plan set. I didn’t need to allocate anything in my will or tell anyone what I was planning because I had already last will and testament notarized. I was going to go on a trip in my car, I would spoof my GPS signal with a spare phone, I would tell people where I would be. I planned to buy a bicycle off of craigslist using a burner phone and while everyone thought I was at this specific area of this place, I’d have secretly used the bicycle I bought to travel into a different area miles away after abandoning my vehicle at my campsite. I had a disguised all figured out, I’d be bald with sunglasses looking like a hobo/hippie and nobody would’ve bat an eye. After a solid 50 – 80 miles on my bicycle I’d dig a hole and ditch it and with the supplies I’d have packed, I’d have disappeared days into the woods all alone.
Nobody would’ve found me, I would’ve enjoyed my final moments in peace all alone. I would’ve taken in the sounds of the silent forest as I dug my shallow grave and put myself to rest forever. There was such a sense of peace and relief when I wrote this all down. Everyone would be taken care for financially, and I would no longer have to carry the burden of existing in this life anymore. But before I could attempt this, I had to see some people off before I left.
My friend was murdered in 2010, he was just fresh out of high school. His dad in his rage, murdered him, his brother and his mother all on that cold November night. I still remember it to this day because it felt surreal. It felt like I was in a movie and although we weren’t the oldest or best of friends, I always admired him. His honor, his sense of duty, his decisiveness, his willingness to always do the right thing, and above all else, what he meant to the people around him and around me.
I went to their grave stones to offer them some incense and then I broke down in tears. It was not the first time I had been here, I have visited many times with friends and many times alone. But this is the first time I was honest with myself, that the reason I come here is because they keep me alive. I remember that week after it all happened I was collecting donation boxes for the surviving family members and I had someone I cared about with me there. My friend cared about her a lot too. The reason I showed up with offerings to their grave stones is because my friend and I both loved the same woman. But life takes its tax and collected that night and I lost two people I cared about deeply forever that year. So I show up whenever I can to try and push myself forward in life. To try and eek out anything meaningful from it all and keep living for their sake. I came clean and told them that I was tired of being here, I just wanted to give up, I just want to sleep and finally be at peace. But as I said that, something came over me, and as my tears slowly dried up, so did that piece of me that wanted to run away and go to sleep forever.
For the first time in my adult life, I grieved for something that was truly important to me that I had lost forever. I cried my heart out and poured out my emotions, even if nobody else was around to witness it, the most important person witnessed it, me. I felt every single thing that poured out of me, all the pain, all the regret, all the sorrow, all the anger, the frustration, the rage. My emotions finally poured out of me and as I finished grieving for the first time in ages, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. I felt a sense of acceptance and the ability to finally move on from this. All the guilt I had carried with me no longer burdened me with an obligation to exist but instead fueled this new fire to drive me to find a deep and more powerful reason to truly be alive.