no other way out but out

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the thought of taking one’s own life is a serious thought. a serious thought that indicates a serious problem or a problem taken way too seriously. whatever the case may be, the thought of taking one’s own life — no other way out but out — is desperation.

the thought of taking one’s own life is never — almost never — articulated, especially to the people who will be most affected by its achievement, namely, your loved ones or your immediate family… until it’s too late. but ironically the thought of taking one’s own life is really a matter too private and too delicate to articulate, especially to your loved ones.

telling your loved ones that you are planning to take your own life complicates matters in your head. it either increases their awareness of your presence and their involvement in your life and thoughts, that it becomes an extra burden that takes away your thought that there is no other way out but out. or you might get lectured in return thus galvanizing your resolve that there really is no other way out but out, because your ears can only take in too much.

thinking — and believing — that there is no other way out but out, is desperation. obviously, this is how you feel, that there’s no other way out of your problem in this life but out.

but taking one’s own life solves only one problem: the feeling that there’s no other way out of your problem but out. the problem is still there, you are not. however, your precipitate decision spawns multiple problems for those you will leave behind, including your dog.

taking one’s own life only works best with people who have no family and friends who care. or a pet. but that is exactly the mindset of people who entertain the thought that there is no other way out but out — that is, that no one cares. but people (loved ones, family and friends) really care. they care enough to get hurt even over the fact that you’d thought there’s no other way out but out.

they probably just weren’t there when you felt you needed them — when you felt you were crouched crippled in the shadows, and they can’t see you. or though they were there, you felt they did not see you.

it is a form of escape, taking one’s own life. escape from the responsibility of having to care about others. it is ironic that the feeling that no one cares for you brings you to care for no one but yourself. this is the first thought your friends and loved ones who you left bitterly would entertain — that you were too selfish. and you are — or were, because by now you’re already out.

too selfish to care about the grief you caused. too selfish to care about the trouble you brought. and too selfish to care about the expense that your burial would entail. unless you signed a demand note that you be left alone where you got out and be left to rot there.

but even this becomes an inconvenience for those who’d pass by your exit point. but even the government won’t allow this and would spend for your burial or cremation if no one else will. but if someone or some may care for you to give you a decent wake and burial, it’s still an inconvenience for them.

even if your own personal estate pays for all the expenses, time will stand still for those you left, family and friends. and they all, most of them, will grieve your demise for days. and you’d leave them ever wondering why you did it, why you concluded that there is no other way out of your problem but out, why you took your own life… until they forget.

so, don’t believe that there is no other way out but out. and don’t literally jump to a conclusion! hang in there… oops!

i’m out.

paranoia

paranoia, the baseless fear that there is an evil plot against you; that people you see pass by your house are spies who are part of the conspiracy.

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this was the kind of paranoia that afflicted me.  it was not a constant fear, but manifested itself from time to time, in episodes, like spells. it also manifested itself in a couple other ways:

when i am in a public place like a cafeteria or restaurant, and see a group of people in a huddle — i was certain they were talking about me.  they weren’t saying good things about me, but nasty, unkind things.  sometimes, alone in my bedroom, i could even hear them talking, i could hear their voices through the walls.

but my nastiest and most horrifying experience of paranoia was seeing (in my peripheral vision, when i look slightly down) the faces of people sitting across from me melt and disfigure into hideous demons frowning at me.

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all this was a result of drug abuse.  i had already quit.  i was already into rehab.  but the damage that drugs have caused in my brain’s perceptions of reality remained.  my problem wasn’t merely psychological, it was physiological — drugs have messed up my brain’s bio-chemical equilibrium.

i was regularly injected with an anti-psychotic drug to correct the chemical imbalance in my brain that caused the hallucinations — the paranoia.  i was also given depressants to slow down my thoughts and make me droopy and drowsy, unable (now) to further conceive conspiracy theories.

after six months or so of drug treatment, the chemical imbalance was corrected and my brain had altogether ceased from inventing malevolent plots plotted against me… and involuntarily conjuring up frowning demon faces.