The day after I k*lled myself

Before anyone wondering, no I’m not suicidal. I’m really afraid to die… but sometimes I couldn’t lift myself up to face this harsh reality either… This note isn’t my last note nor it is my suicide note, or whatever. This note is a closure, something that I needed for a long time, something that will serve me as a reminder that suicide is not a solution but rather another problem that will 100% spawn much more problems for people around me.

What I wrote here is only a fiction about what would probably happened if I did end my life. Not to fantasize about dying or anything but this is just a reminder and an EVEN MORE reason why I shouldn’t give in…

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The day after I killed myself. The first one who will noticed my disappearance is probably my wife. Not contacting her for longer than 24 hours is already a cue that something is going on. I’ve told her so many times that I’m tired of living our marriage long-distance like this, I want to be by her side all the time but for some reason I still can’t. I want to be able to protect her, make her happy, be her company wherever she want to go, but instead I’m still stuck here in a place far away even from my family.

Three days later, the dorm owner decided to check my room because everyone from my office is curious and desperate to search for me. So many good people in my office by the way, sometimes I told some of them about what I felt when I depressed, often times I just randomly decided to not participate in any social events because I just think I don’t deserve to have fun when I know for sure that I still can’t make my wife and family happy.

How shocked, disgusted and terrified he was when he saw my body hanging from the ceiling of my dorm room. The stench hasn’t really build up since the body technically still not begin to rot, but the scene itself really painted a permanent image, burned into his retina and everyone who came with him.

Talking about reason, it’s not really because how hard or how overload the job in my office is. I’ve gained enough experience to at least have the mental capacity to handle them. My reason has everything to do with my long-distance marriage. Not the marriage itself because I have a wonderful wife, but the distance.

The fact that there’s no way for me to tell when I’m gonna move to closer to my wife is depressing to say the least. Can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s this dreading feeling at the back of your throat when you’re doing something that you know will contribute nothing to your goal, the feeling of hopelessness.

Everyday feels like a really boring chore because you know it doesn’t even gonna change anything about your situation, and every single day a little part of my soul disintegrated. It doesn’t really noticeable at first but when you do notice it, it’s already too late. Some people notice it almost immediately, they said that I don’t smile that often anymore. Some notice that I don’t wear my uniform correctly anymore et cetera.

But they all came to the same conclusion: it must be because of them that I killed myself.

“What could I do differently?”

“Why didn’t I paid attention more to what he said?”

“Is it because of my action?”

 

Even years after my death, those questions still lingers in their minds. Wondering if they could do something differently to prevent me from killing myself, along with the massive amount of guilt on their shoulders. Many experts even said that those who are close to someone who commited suicide is either become more virtuous or become absolutely traumatized by the experience and all the voices inside their heads telling them that it’s their fault.

One of my reason is that I wanted to change the regulations about moving. By killing myself I want the decision maker to realize that there should be no different between a husband that is separated from his wife and a wife that is separated from her husband. But they probably don’t care and the regulations never changed, period.

And I hope that the world is more aware about suicide problems in men by actually doing it, but yeah I’m probably just ended up as a statistics and the news only covers my death as clinical depression that had nothing to do with the fact that I’m far away from my wife and family (obviously to protect the reputation of the higher ups haha). I could see that happening.

In the end, everyone around me got devastated mentally and probably traumatized for life, while everyone else in this world is doing fine, still doing their usual activities like nothing happened. If I know that I would achieve nothing but still killing myself despite making everyone around me depressed, Isn’t it very selfish?

Yeah.

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Back to reality.

Having a clear mindset that suicide isn’t gonna solve anything is very great, but if the root cause of the problem is still there I’m pretty sure sooner or later I’m gonna forget about all of this. That’s why I’ve decided to write this so that I can come back here and be reminded about the only mindset that matters whenever I feel the world is actively against me.

I’m fine now, seriously!

Those suicidal phase is behind me and this note is basically it’s tombstone.

But it wouldn’t hurt to say hi and talk to me if you want.

Thanks for reading (and listening)😊