Today is my day off. Tomorrow, Saturday, I have a part-time shift on the easiest day of the week. If I didn't show up, it wouldn't be so dire – in my opinion, Saturday doesn't require 2 copy editors – and there may be someone there who could swing shift to replace me if I mysteriously didn't show up.
I think I've laid enough signals that if I didn't show up at one shift, they shouldn't expect me to show up at any future shifts. Well no, I haven't laid signals – I've said it outright.
But if I'm thinking that way, that's indicative in itself. Not showing up should mean I don't give a crap about these little details. So why am I thinking of these little details?
I shouldn't be. Or is my attention to these little details indicative of simple resonant responsibility, and maybe even compassion, to the fact that these other people still take their lives seriously, more seriously than I took mine, and I should try to minimize any disruption to their lives?
Hmph, am I so arrogant to think my "disruption to their lives" extends beyond just practical work considerations? That's easy: maybe. But not not enough to sway me either way.
This is all wrong. Suicide is suicide. It messes things up for other people. And there is no warning. If you're going to commit suicide, you don't project it and hope people are prepared for it. Nothing prepares people for it. And projecting it means it's a cry for help, not a genuine intention.
And what gets messed up in other people's lives by my suicide is actually quite minor. They'll deal, it'll pass.
Family? I want them to feel the effects of my suicide. Friends? What friends? Please.
 |
| THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 5:54 p.m. - 101 and waxing croissant moon. |
