What If Choosing Death Means Life? A Gimpy Monologue (rough)


They used to tell me that all life was sacred and beautiful, a gift given by the creator to his or her beloved children. The Buddha said that all life is suffering, that suffering is meant to be a transcendental experience delivering us into light. That’s bullshit. They have a word for people who get pleasure from pain… Masochist, and I am not one. What if you were literally a prisoner in your own body, feeling internal tremors as strong as earthquakes, slowly losing control… Muscles contracted so tightly, that eventually you start to cry. You reach your 50s, and you slowly begin to realize that you’re stuck in the body of an 80-year-old constantly in pain, and instead of saying I love you when you want to, the only thing you can say is get the fuck out, and you watch the tears flow like a river of pain down the faces of those you love, and two years later you realize you’re the one that caused such overflowing disdain… It mangles with love and slowly turns into regret, love? Sorry, that’s as close as you’ll really ever get. What if their last memories of you include wiping your ass for you, because it’s something you couldn’t do? Self-hatred and loathing in the way, until I’m sorry is all that you can say.

Now imagine instead if you will, you have your wits about you still. You tell those around you, “what if I told you I wanted to die?” A puzzled look, wondering if you’re going to commit suicide. If I were you, I’d answer them calmly and say that I don’t plan on dying today, but I do plan on dying my own way. Living my life on my own terms. No doubt many people around you will be puzzled, and you’ll ask them which is better: living life like an automaton always in perpetual motion, with little engagement or emotion? Or by choosing death, on my own terms, can I mitigate life’s most painful burns? I want you to remember me as I am, not as I would be as assisting-year-old living in the body of an 80-year-old man. I want you to remember my smiling face, my heart full of love and laughter, and hope for the human race. Besides, what do I have to lose anyway… The way I see it I can better appreciate every single day. The watchers may choose to take me sooner but at least I know I did it my way. So what if choosing death means life?

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5 thoughts on “What If Choosing Death Means Life? A Gimpy Monologue (rough)”

  1. You know I completely agree with this. I’m not asking because I think you’re suicidal, or anything like that, but because I understand…are you okay?

    Those times in the deep valley of emotions can be exhausting and so lonely. Just know that there are people out there who truly understand.


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