Of Love And Suicide

Two things have come recently into focus for me. Firstly, I may actually be falling in love. Second, it seems to me that all of a sudden, suicide doesn't feel like such an unpleasant thing anymore. So, in yet another random rant, let me boil down my thoughts on the two topics that have recently occupied my twisted little mind.

***Of Love And Suicide***

I think I'm in love.

Note the key there, folks: think. Of course, there is really no way to tell if one truly is in love, is there? No, not from what I've seen. Still, the mere fact that the way I feel about her is different from the way I feel about everyone else I know and have known is something I find intriguing. She's more than just special to me, that much I am certain of. A lot of girls have been special to me over the years and I certainly wasn't in love with then; they were just more to me, they meant something a little bit more to me that others. But this girl...this girl is different. I've never, ever allowed anyone in my whole life that much leeway with me, I'd never even considered letting anyone stretch the limits of my patience and my faculties the way she does.

Do I have feelings for her? Definitely I do. Am I in love with her? I honestly can't tell. That is one of those things that, for all the mental prowess I am supposed to possess, I have always been unable to really know. I can figure out almost any problem and provide a solution acceptable and advantageous to all given enough time to investigate and enough room to maneuver the solution into but for matters of my own heart, I'm running on empty. Not that I can't take someone else's situation, make sense of it in situations that they can't and present them with an honestly objective perspective and option based solely on what I've been told but I can't seem to do the same for my own. Naturally, it is a little difficult to maintain a clear head and natural objectivity when dealing with emotions that are yours because they're so much closer to you; the fact that you're the one who is feeling them makes them disruptive of any attempt at logical analysis.

The light at the end of this tunnel, however, is the fact that I may find clarity in my question soon. I have stayed on a job, in a company that I find to be disturbingly dull and is stressing me out to the point that I feel as if I might become sane (I rather enjoy insanity, thank you very much) because she's there. I think I'm starting to lose touch with my own natural skepticism about other people's motives and actions when they're relating to her and random, odd questions that I'd normally just brush off and dismiss as whatever seems to be either appropriate or convenient at the time I actually bother thinking up a solid answer to when she asks. Sure, there are the few minutes of “What the fuck?” that run through my end, followed by a few more minutes of pondering her motivations for asking such a question and whether or not she's drunk but eventually, I get around to actually answering it. The thought of dismissing them as just a nuisance doesn't even cross my mind. Definitely out of character for me. That alone should tip me off that something isn't right with me when concerning matters that involve Her.

Well, if I ever find out the answer to this question, I'll be sure to spill the beans here. Not that anyone even bother to read this garbage, anyway, so I don't have any problem with it.

Oh, on a final note about this: I suggest listening to “Everytime We Touch” by Cascada. It suits my current perception of what I feel, not to mention I've only now gotten some sort of deeper appreciation for the lyrics (specifically, the chorus).

Everytime we touch

I get this feeling

Every time we kiss

I swear I'm alive

Moving on to the second matter: suicide. I have never been suicidal before. I've thought about it, pictured it in my head but never thought of actually applying it. Coward's way out and all that. But now? Now is a different matter. My current work is really, really wearing away at my sensibilities. I have even started contemplating which would be the most efficient way of doing it given my current available materials. Chemical over-doses don't work all the time and, frankly, it looks like it takes a while and you have the time to re-think your decision. Naturally, having a phone nearby provides a way out in such a situation. Jumping off a building doesn't do that. Pulling the trigger of a gun is an interesting option since you really do have a near-indefinite amount of time to think things through. That is, until you pull the trigger. Then there's no turning back, is there?

Now, suicide isn't something new to me. However, the recent development in my case is that death no longer seems so daunting a thought. In fact, the idea of dying almost seems pleasant. Mind you, I still do not find it a welcome one but the release it brings is oh so pleasant an idea right now. Release from the stress, from the monotony, from the demands, from the pressure, from the high levels of sanity-inducing ennui, from my own emotional confusion. It feels more like being free from all the burdens and aches and expectations that the world, that society, that family and even yourself place on your shoulders. Expectations that seem both reasonable and yet, at the same time, unreasonable enough to make you believe the world is conspiring to ensure your failure and the sad part is that part of you is in on the whole deal. To quote the song: I'm losing my sight, losing my mind, wish somebody would tell me I'm fine. No, I'm not about to kill myself just yet. There are things that still have to be done, things I cannot bear to leave undone or worse yet, not even started. Not to mention the people I'd leave behind, even though in about six months, none of them will even remember me since I'm not exactly the type of person that makes an impact on other people's lives. I'm quite the forgettable person, to be honest. A few months of no contact and people won't even remember my name, even if I suddenly pop back into their life and remind them.

Somehow, Blink 182's song “Adam's Song” seems so fitting for my current state of mind.

I never thought

I'd die alone

I laughed the loudest

Who'd have known?

On a note related to the above topics, I've just come to a realization:

The closer we become as friends, the more depressed I become because it means the further I get from becoming what part of me thinks I want to be to her. And the more depressed I become, the more I want to get close to her because, as a friend, she's the person I know I can trust most to give me what I need when I'm down.

Oh bitter, bitter, masochistic cycle...

May not make sense to you but it does to me.

Now, I have to get going to contemplate my next move in this chess game…

Oh. Pretty, isn't she?