I’m writing to you, depressed reader, from the land of the dead. I’ve finally figured out how to put pen to paper in this spirit realm, but that story is for another time. I’ve got a much more pressing issue that I must talk to you about. For any of you who are contemplating suicide, my advice would be DON’T DO IT. You see, here’s a little something that no one on God’s green earth knows about, but it would change the way you living people think about death.
First, you die naturally and things go according to plan. Short period of physical pain, if any, and then you are off to judgement and all that jazz. I would suggest this route. You know how some Christians say suicide gives you a one way ticket to hell? Well, in a way, that seems to be the case. Let me tell you my little hellish tale of how suicide works. I’m going into some gory detail to get my point across. Consider this a warning.
I was about fifty stories up, and not knowing what I do now, thought that my best option was to jump. So I spread my arms wide and dove forward with thoughts of freedom. Goodbye cruel world. All was going according to plan when, about a foot from hitting the pavement, everything goes ultra-slow motion. Let me tell you, the last thing you want is to feel every moment of your body slamming into soda stained concrete.
My left knee hit first and the pain shot through my body like a blow torch on an ant farm. Every nerve ending screamed louder than my lungs could offer up. I could hear my bones turn into pieces, which I imagined were like small white morsels of Captain Crunch. My left foot split in two, and my thigh slowly burst into a bloody stub – like a large flesh colored tic that’s over fed itself. It took some minutes to complete each task, so you can only imagine my surprise and disgust at this process.
As these nightmares unfold, the right side of my forehead makes contact. It felt like a skin abrasion at first, then melted into that feeling you get when you hit the corner of your head on a table so hard that your eyes water. Then, the noises again, of bone snapping like someone breaking a tree limb over their knee, followed by a crunching noise as the smaller fragments rub against one another. I could feel a piece of bone separate from the rest of my skull and skillfully begin to saw on the optical nerve of my right eye until servered, then with the force of a broken rubber band sling it from its socket. I watched with my left eye as its counterpart bounced across the pavement and straight into traffic.
A woman screamed as I slowly crapped myself. Her screams were so horrific that I would have been embarrassed if I wasn’t in so much pain. What was left in my guts were squeezed out until my innards were nothing but empty, dry sausage casings. My nose hit in such a way that I could feel a bruise develop around my good left eye. Then my right nostril closed off, causing the left nostril to shoot hot blood across my open mouth, followed by the cartilage slowly being sandpapered away by the cement.
The worst part was the jaw. The bottom jaw hit first, so I could feel each tooth leaving its spot as if it were being hit with a hammer from below. This pain was excruciating, beyond what I thought possible. At this point, I started to wonder if I’d jumped head first if I could have avoided some of this torture. The top row of teeth wasn’t a pleasant experience either. Each one being pulled forward away from my gums, instead down like a dentist would.
Finally, the part I’d been waiting for – the brain. After what felt like an hour of torture, I was finally getting to the part that could end this misery. As my brain turned to mush, from front to back, things shut down like an overheated engine that was about to explode. First, any vision or hearing that I’d retained ceased to be. Next, I forgot who I was and then finally everything faded to nothingness, to infinity.
I remember being above my broken body, weeping for that guy who suffered both in life and in death – floating up and up until all pain was removed. I wouldn’t wish that experience on my worst enemy. I’ve talked with others who’ve committed suicide since then and they all have similar stories. You really have to sympathize with someone feeling a bullet slowly breaking the skin of their temple, knowing what’s coming next – or the rope burn of someone hanging themselves who knows this is the start of a horrible evening.
My advice to you, depressed reader, would be to live out your life. Even if it’s uneventful and full of disappointment, it’s still a life that you’ll miss when it’s gone. Better to be watching crappy reruns on your crappy tv than to wonder, in the next life, what could have been. Because, as much physical pain as I went through that day, not knowing what could have been if I’d just hung in there is sometimes worse.