Alright, let me be honest for once and not cryptic. I went out, tried, and failed. I had my version of the gun loaded and pointed in my mouth; I tied the noose, hung it from the rafters, stood on the chair and put my head through it; I parked the car in the garage, closed the garage door and put the key in the ignition; I poured the cyanide solution and held the cup to my lips; I held the blade in trembling hands, prepared to make it but . . .
But I didn't pull the trigger, I didn't kick the chair out from under me, I didn't turn the key in the ignition, I didn't drink the glass of solution, . . . just then the phone rang, I never had the nerve to make the final cut. That close and still no results.
Big question remaining whether I'll actually do this, but even with this fail I don't have a reason for why I failed. The window remains open and I'm watching every day for the next right time to try again. I fully expect another attempt as I continue to schluff off baggage that may have led to this fail and get clearer that I don't see any other option and don't want any other option.
All roads lead to this. Any thought or idea or possibility or prospect that wanders out of my mind eventually boomerangs and ends up back to this. Any thoughts of any people, any of the things that I do, any future, any places, all come back to this.
For full disclosure, here was my method:
As I've been saying, every day is a target. Whether I tried to execute the plan or not depended on how I felt on any particular day. On Friday, I felt I had come to an end. It was time. Most of the day was like I was preparing for a trip, making sure things were in place, scanning my apartment to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.
Things were just as I wanted them by 6 P.M. and I headed out on my bike, clipless pedals switched out to toe-clips so I could wear sneakers, also wearing a cheap cycling jersey from a local hypermart and my mountain bike shorts, which look more like shorts than cycling shorts but have padding.
I wasn't pushing any pace, a casual 14 mph was sufficient, and I rode along the riverside bikeways headed towards Danshui, 16 miles away on the route I took. I had a playlist on my iPod Shuffle entitled "finale" and another of piano accompanied songs to put me and keep me in the mood (piano accompanied songs just have a sad quality to them that seemed to fit).
There were instances on the bikeways close to sunset where I was filled with pure, ecstatic joy. This world is so big, wide and beautiful and I'm glad to be a participant on this human journey. Humanity's time on this world, in this universe is limited and to experience this human journey is a pleasure and privilege. Death is part of the journey and part of the wonderment.
I hung out for a short bit in Danshui, which has a night market/boardwalk feel, before heading out on the meat of the journey on Provincial Highway 2 that goes along Taiwan's north coast. There were a few raindrops in Danshui but heading out of Danshui proper the rain started coming down and I found shelter and hunkered down for a while. It hadn't been a day that hinted at rain and the sky didn't look like it would rain, so I was confident that it would pass and it did. In short time the stars and moon were visible again. I carried on slowly and the road dried out after a short distance, allowing me to pick up the pace.
The complete Provincial Highway 2 ride is the longest one I've found in northern Taiwan, about 66 miles, going from Taipei to Danshui, then all along the north coast through Sanzhi, Shimen, Jinshan and Wanli townships to Keelung and back to Taipei. I forget the distance to my destination and didn't take note, but it wasn't a distance to sneeze at. More than half of the entire ride.
The ride has a few very minor hills but no major climbs, so it was just cruising along with one short break. I knew my destination. It was the most northeastern point of Taiwan in Shimen township, and I noted it on Google Streetview and on the Provincial Highway 2 ride I did several weeks ago.
I arrived at the destination at . . . I'm already forgetting, or maybe I wasn't paying attention . . . nine or ten o'clock? Ish. The destination was a stretch of road and I first stopped at a tourist destination that I had never noticed before. I was going to kill myself right next to a tourist spot. Faboo.
I locked my bike and explored around the tourist spot for a bit. While walking out on some coastal rocks, it was dark and my foot went into water, and at first I was like, "crap!", but then I realized how stupid that was and freely let myself get wet.
Then I explored the short stretch of coastline for the right spot, I don't think it was much more than 300 meters, and found the perfect spot where there wasn't a rest stop or cafe. It was an undeveloped piece of land where there was access to the rocky shore. I went back to get my bike and left it unlocked on the undeveloped piece of land.
From here my memory starts getting hazy. Mind you, I had a bottle of vodka and all during this I was occasionally taking slugs out of it. I walked down into the rocks in the surf and found a rock to sit down on and mull things for a while.
I had sleeping pills with me and an inflatable flotation ring. I inflated the ring, but at the end of all this I don't know what happened to it. I remember contemplating the sleeping pills which were in sealed packaging. I remember thinking to take them out of the packaging because at the end of this, I would either have taken them or I wouldn't and would have slung them into the surf.
The plan was to take the sleeping pills and swim out into the ocean as far as I could with the inflatable ring to help get out as far as possible. I wouldn't cling to the ring, and when I lost consciousness, I would naturally let go of the ring. Good plan, no?
I didn't break the seal and I still have the sleeping pills for my next attempt.
Hazy memory, other things that happened over the course of hours:
At one point it started raining, pouring, and I ran for cover. I knew there was a covered bus stop not far along the road and that's where I ended up for I don't know how long. I left my bike in the rain.
When I was in the rocks, I slipped several times and fell into the water, scratching up my legs on the sharp rocks, but also getting my iPod shuffle wet. I guess all the water started making the iPod fritz out and I flung it away.
I also remember I wasn't alone. There was someone else along that bit of shore who may or may not have noticed me, too. When I first found that stretch of coast, I did notice a car parked on the beach and wondered what it was doing there but after a while figured there wasn't anyone there.
This other person was distinguished by a pinpoint of light that I kept my eye on. Sometimes I lost sight of it, but I kept track of it as long as I could see it. Hours and hours, I shouldn't wonder. In my night's travels I noticed there are night fishermen who used such pinpoints of light as some sort of locater.
I vaguely remember after the rain stopped, I headed back to my perfect spot and I don't have a direct memory of this, but the pinpoint of light guy went about his business all during the rain, and it turned out to be his car that was there and I think I remember him leaving, meaning the shore was all mine again.
That's all I remember. Hours and hours had gone by that I don't remember. I don't remember how I ended up back on my bike, heading to complete the Provincial Highway 2 loop. I don't remember what time it was, I don't remember any thoughts. It was a journey, it was an ordeal. At some point I noticed that my right shoelace was untied but left it. At the end of all this that shoelace had rubbed up against the pedal connection to the crank that it was stained filthy.
I don't remember much about it but it was in Jinshan that I stopped at another bus stop for an indeterminate amount of time. When I woke up there was the faint trace of dawn's light. I pushed on and pushed on. I pushed on passing the Dharma Drum Mountain monument, I pushed on through Wanli, I pushed on through Keelung.
When I carried my bike back up to my floor it felt sluggish. I left it in the outer hallway. After I woke up, I found the front tire was flat. The bike got me all the way home and only then gave out. The inner tube had a tiny puncture and I patched it, but oddly the puncture was on the inside of the tube. This is just a detail, it doesn't mean anything.
It was a minor fail and I totally plan to try again. Just waiting for the same feeling for the right day, and days are filled with so much unbearable I just know it will come again. I won't try the same plan, variation on the theme, but maybe not so elaborate, maybe not even use my bike. But I like the bike part. I just don't need to go that far.
One thing that does bother me is that I was right at the brink and I didn't do it. The problem wasn't not being at 100% commitment when I was at the brink. The problem was not being at 100% commitment when I initially left. Nothing changed in feeling from when I left to when I was sitting on the rocks to when I was watching the dawn. So I guess it should be clear that I have no idea what 100% commitment is, or should render it irrelevant.
