Thoughts of my suicide role-model.
He didn't live to see past his 28th birthday.
I'm 28 now.
It just doesn't make any sense.
When I was 14, I was deeply impacted by his suicide. I thought I could understand it. He just didn't want people to bother him. He didn't like the fame and the fortune he made meant he had more access to drugs. He was going through a messy divorce. I defended his case to others, to me, it made perfect sense why someone would want to die. At the time, I didn't believe in God. I had no faith. I believed everything was just in a procession for death.
Now I'm 28. I lived one year past his death year. I got to see what it was like to be his age and to think the things he must have thought about. I have faith now. I'll never become a rich rock star or have a messy divorce because I'm not married, of these things I'm sure. But I think, what if I were in his shoes? This is what gets me. What if I were him, and I got to be that rich. If I had no love or took no comfort for material possessions or for nice things, for family or for friends. The only things I loved were things that were old and unloved. And everything around me became something whom I wasn't. If I had a daughter to a wife whom I didn't love and millions of dollars, Is it still a case for death? Wouldn't I have tried to find another way to make it work? Why the big hurry to choose the quickest and most permanent way to end all the problems? How can someone be so hopeless?
So he eternally humbled himself. I'll never understand why someone would even choose to live this way and to be remembered for it in the end, if the only one he was serving and living for was himself.