I think I’ve done enough work to make it publicly known I’m suicidal, and if the fact hasn’t been hammered home yet, let this be the last nail on the coffin (ha ha?). I’m a lot better than I have been since November, but I have still been unable to find professional help. A combination of a lot of things factored into this (poor focus, more melancholy, funds, obligations, etc.), but the result is the same: I’m a depressive suicidal who has trouble communicating with others on a very basic level, which makes getting myself out of the funk I’m in all the harder. It’s a mess that makes me wonder why I even bother, given it’s likely going to be more trouble than it’s worth in regards to everyone involved.
It’s understood this is depressing news, but I have to be honest with what I feel because if I don’t let it out in some fashion I would otherwise burst in the worst way possible. Consider it the “cry for help” if you will. Writing, talking and being meta about my process has helped me cope…but only a bit. The hard wiring within me is still there, and no matter how much I deal with the symptoms the mess will continue lest I change it. It’s a shame that plenty is telling me I should just shrug my shoulders and cut my losses.
As of this moment, I don’t really hold that much value for my life and what it could potentially bring to others. I may have my moments wherein I can ignore the thoughts and have a smile, but the thoughts creep back in because it’s been my default state of mind for over a year now. I have no faith things will change, which makes the idea of working to make them change pointless to me. Scenarios of how to perfectly end it all make a lot more sense, even though I know there’s no perfect way to go about offing yourself and making everyone happy. But the thoughts remain, hindering the efforts of what possible joy I could bring to this world.
The biggest reasoning I give myself to commit suicide is that everyone would be a lot better off. The job I have could be given to one who needs it more, social functions actually function as they are supposed to when I’m not around, and attention to real producers of content can be given rather than having my distractions and promises of changing coming again and again. Finish up the finances, square things with your contacts so they understand what’s going down, then off yourself in some manner so society would benefit from the sacrifice. Now here’s the weather! Morbid thought, I know, but when you’re in constant pain the thought looks rather pleasing. It’s a win-win scenario for all involved!
And then I randomly read a tweet about mourning the death of someone I idolized in a fashion. Not just dead, but suicide via gunshot. Justin Carmical, the JewWario, is dead by his own choosing. It felt like a joke. Justin, who was releasing videos and tweeting last week as if nothing was wrong with the world, gone forever? A sick perverted joke. But it’s real, and it’s a mix of sadness, fear, and rage that overwhelms me at this time. Mostly rage, because the amount of wrong here breaks whatever suicidal logic I can muster.
JewWario is supposed to be one of the people I would leave behind, not the other way around. I believe this is a selfish thought, but it’s what I feel regardless. Far as my crippled mind knows, no one really cares about what I make for myself, because they’re too involved with their own lives and I’m just a hindrance. My hopes and dreams mean nothing because no one cares or will care. That any of it is true or not is debatable, but a part of me believes and it’s enough to make me look for excuses to start the process of leaving this world. I have no reason to be busting my ass for an existence that means nothing.
But Justin? This is a fellow who has entertained people by the thousands, who has never given any grief or negativity to his fanbase, had been constant in entertainment production and had so much to live for in terms of work and people who cared for him. People wanted and needed him around for the fun and love he brought to the table, and he gave so much. I can’t even fathom the pressure he had to just make sure his fans were given proper care, which I would otherwise describe as soul crushing. So much the burden would be that running from it is the better option than to fail at being thankful.
Maybe that’s what drove Justin to run as well? I honestly don’t know, nor is it my right to know because that’s his personal life, which was filled with so much anguish the world wasn’t even aware of. I’m even sick about writing this because that’s just what JewWario’s close friends and family need: another Internet jackass reminiscing about how sad they are over this, when the passion should have been out beforehand. I’m reminded of something Bailey Jay talked about in her podcast in response to people being sad over the death of celebrities. Don’t quote me (because I’m having trouble finding the audio through the 140+ episodes), but it was something to the effect on how everyone wants to be the first to express sadness or the most it, like it’s a damned contest. Or worse yet, just to be part of things because it’s trendy and gives them attention.
Or maybe that’s just more of the negative mindset trying to belittle me just a little more, when I should be doing what you’re reading right now, and try to figure out my feelings through the loss of someone who felt important to me. To remember the good he had and could have done, and learn what I can to be sure nothing like this can happen again…even though so much of it is out of our control. The pain of a suicidal is intense, one which easily brushes aside the desires of others who truly want them around. That Justin was going through such pain under the guise of the bundle of joy I knew him as shocks me to the core. That even knowing of that pain and how we could likely do nothing about it breaks my heart.
It’s fucked up that it’s the suicide of JewWario which fills me with passion about how much beauty and wonder there is in this world. I am a redundant fool, but the sheer wealth of beauty in this world is incomprehensible. Justin was just a single colorful piece to the amazing mural we call existence, and he was irreplaceable. The majesty is still there, but it shines a little less without him. It’s as much as I can say and am allowed to feel given the social standards I think I would break if I feel more. That I could have a more valid connection to justify the hurt I feel right now.
I still believe the world is better off with me. I can’t disregard what I feel. But I owe it to Justin to rewire those thoughts and not smother them as much as I can. I need to keep kicking to show the world he meant something to me and many others. Hell, the billions who have come before us if you want to go that far. Our lives are built upon the bodies of those who thought we were worth it, and that needs to be respected. And not “or else” because that infers finality, but because Justin likely left thinking he wasn’t worth a damn. He was worth that and so much more, and so are you. I need to live if just to show you that. As best I can, I need to show you what joy there is to be had from this world, especially with the pain, because it provides the contrast we need to define what makes us happy. Keep kicking. I’ll be kicking with you.