Credit: Illustration by Kalah Allen

For months I’d been getting ready, as my savings slowly drained away, unable to find work, unable to find meaning in this empty, vapid country. We’re going to die someday anyway, right? I had three Oxys and six morphine pills, surely enough to do the job. When the day finally came, I spent hours walking through the city, cherishing the crisp air. I watched the people going about their lives and thought about how easily the world would continue without me. I returned to my little room and started drinking a 12-pack. After 10 beers I began dozing off and knew the time was right. I looked at the baggie of pills. “Am I really going to do this?” I thought. Then I swallowed them. I lay down on my bed, certain I would never wake up yet knowing I made the right decision. I couldn’t believe it when I opened my eyes 12 hours later. I vomited repeatedly then I got angry because I WAS NOT DEAD. I realized why people jump off buildings, shoot themselves, drive into a semi, or point a gun at cops. Now I sit in my room two days later, crying my eyes out, drowning in sadness, more hopeless than ever and wonder—now what?—Anonymous

4 replies on “I, Anonymous”

  2. Now what? Well, I think that exit bags are for people who are not looking for help. I think that you should start a Hopeless/Hopeful Anonymous group of people who meet to share little inspirations, and watch movies that make life worth it. Have you seen Vampire’s Kiss? It’s hilarious. The big ugly world is just that. America is vapid and empty in every definition of both words. But you and me, each little one of us, we actually do have moments. And on the small scale, the moments are ok. They add up. We can brighten a moment for somebody, or dim it. But when we let ourselves go like this, it gets out there, it’s felt. The universe takes a hit. And we can all do better than that. We can at least leave a legacy of little joys rather than sufferings. However silly my suggestion sounds, I know it does, it’s pretty much all we can do; just know that you are not alone. A million people join you. This is a freaking craphole. But I do think there are things we can do.

  3. PS. Ceasing to Breed is what the VHEM is about. Not suicide. And the Church of Euthanasia is NOT about safe suicide. In fact, however nice it is to exit painlessly, to advise somebody without knowing them, is pretty horrific. Not everything is a joke. Please don’t prove the point that the original writer is making.

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