Where I am in life is the direct result of how I've lived my life with an affirmative aspiration or goal to commit suicide. Most everyone has an aspiration towards what they want to be. Most are socially acceptable. Mine is one that is not.

I don't know if I'm going to reach my goal. Many people don't reach theirs. But not reaching mine has consequences. People who don't have a specific aspiration still are or can be content, to varying extents, to float along.

The way I've lived my life precludes floating along indefinitely. If I don't commit suicide by choice, then I'll eventually reach circumstances where I'll feel it's the only option. That was the design. That was all the sabotaging I've done all through my life.

When it hit me that alcohol wasn't going to kill me and I'd have to do it, I balked. Isn't there any other way? It took a sleepless night of calm reflection to realize I didn't even want "any other way". That's part of the design, too. Run through the scenarios of re-entering living life, and nothing appeals. I don't even want to.

I can't suddenly decide that I want to live and re-enter living life. The thought only occurred to me because of fear and attachments. It is scary facing the end of one's life. And the attachment is primarily to these senses and this perspective that I call me, not to the stuff of the world. It's all I know and it's all going to disappear, and I'm the one who has to make it happen.

Anyway, I have to work on unraveling the routine of distractions that has come to make up my life. Or is it distractions of routine? Same difference.

Given its druthers, without external obligations or responsibilities, my daily life falls into routine. It creates its own things, a schedule, that it has to do. Much of it trivial and ridiculous, including being ruled by TV. This is a big problem.

The routine gives me something to do, creating a false sense of purpose and a conveyor belt to tomorrow, distracting me from figuring out that suicide is the only next step.