The key to failing to commit suicide is having a plan that is so damn hard, so involved that the likelihood of success drops dramatically because of the time and mental lucidity required. Since I'm not planning any simplifications or changes to my age-old plan, chances are that I'll fail again, which I'm more than half expecting *wink*.

It is doubtful that I will be able to stay in the moment, to summon up my understanding to fade everything away; to realize that staying is empty grasping. It is doubtful that I will rise to the realization that this might be an essential and integral part of my journey and search. It is doubtful that I will exhibit any true understanding of life and reality beyond our five senses.

Quite the opposite. I will be gripped by the true nature of attachment (NB, attachment=not good). I will hold my arms out and spin 360 degrees and feel that this is all real and all that there is. There is nothing else, there is no leaving this, this is all there is, and I will go home. That's why I duct taped my house key under the fire extinguisher. I will accept that life isn't theory, it's flesh and bones, metabolizing and processing; eating, shitting, sleeping, fucking.

Each time I do this, whatever kept me around eventually fades and goes away. Then I go on flights of fancy, I go on distractions, I go on life benders. Life goes on and mutates and eventually I'll come around back to what made me want to leave again, like a bird to its nest.

OK, I'll do that if I fail this time. I will accept my life to live. I will no longer think of suicide as a mystical passage to get to the other side. And by the "other side", I don't mean death. Believing in reincarnation, I believe I've died countless times. Death is not a big deal. My ingrained understanding of non-attachment goes at least that far.

I mean the other side of a wall that is blocking my path, that rises now before me. A dark and silent barrier between all I am and all that I was ever meant and would ever want to be. I will turn away from that path and head down another, and I will look at the path ahead of me as one to be walked down. Build a road and go, just to keep on dreaming. I will accept that normative path, but in exchange I insist on being able to buy and own a gun.

Then if I do kill myself in an ordinary and gauche way, it will be quick and easy, and for reasons easy for people to figure out and understand as well as condemn. Depression. Loneliness. Social anxiety. Stress. Fear. Anger. Childhood isolation. Failure. Social detachment. Frustration. Inability to cope. Delusional. Possible borderline. Possible personality disorder.

A slaggard once approached a fasting saint,
and baffled by despair made this complaint:
"The devil is a highwayman, a thief,
who's ruined me and robbed me of belief."
The saint replied: "Young man, the devil, too,
has made his way here to complain - of you!
'My province is the world,' I heard him say,
'Tell this new pilgrim of God's holy Way
to keep his hands off what is mine. If I
attack him it's because his fingers pry
in my affairs. If he will leave me be,
he's no concern of mine and can go free'."
- Conference of the Birds, p. 99