I watched an old woman kill herself
I’m tired of struggling.
The rest of my life feels like an interminably long time and I keep wondering if I die will I go to hell?
And is the hell there worse than the hell here?
Some part of my mind says how can you say you are in hell, you are surrounded by things people want, but heaven or hell are not made up of things but of happiness or sorrow, peace or turmoil, pleasure or torment and my life is the latter.
I keep dreaming of fading away, and I think if I was alone in the world I’d disappear right now, right this second. The only thing tethering me to this world at this point is duty.
The duty of an only child.
Maybe I’m a hypocrite for not wanting to die of something like cancer or some other disease, or in a plane crash as I so often dream I will, but it’s natural to want to control the means of my own death, at least, control freak that I am, it is to me. But in the end, please stop this ride, I want to get off.
What despairs me the most isn’t how unhappy I am or how unhappily I’ve lived, but that every time I have hoped and made an attempt to grasp happiness it’s blown up in my face only to fling me backwards into deeper sadness than I had fought with everything to escape. My trust in people is forever destroyed.
So slowly, I’ve shed my hopes, and right now there is nothing left and a lifetime of nothing seems like an unbearable eternity to me and I can’t live like this.
I watched this old lady in Belgium die because her daughter did and she had nothing left to live for.
She chose to get euthanized and the doctor gave her two options: lethal injection or a syrup laden with an overdose of barbiturates.
She chose the syrup.
At first, I thought she wouldn’t go through with it, but she took the cup from the doctor and drank it down. She was sure, her hand was steady, and for the first time, she seemed happy.
Watching her, even though I knew I was watching someone kill herself, I felt this flood of relief.
It was realizing there’s actually a place you can go, and it’s so simple and in a moment, maybe two, the suffering is over for good.
I always thought I would never return to this terrible place, but now that I’m here, my single comfort is that at least there’s a way out.
At least there’s Bruxelles.