That night was still. I heard the silence of all those lost souls. I considered myself being one. I dismissed the idea very quickly and drank another gin. Straight gin was allegedly, the drink of alcoholics. Specifics for some reason outweighed quantity. The gin wasn’t really a choice, it was simply what was there.
I’d considered my next move. I laughed at that thought. That sounded as if I had a choice. I didn’t. Every fucker had an opinion on what I should do. It wasn’t a case of what I should, it was what I had to do. There is a difference that only the opinionated could argue. The desperate would just act.
Consequence wasn’t a consideration. I was fucked. At least this way, my pride would be intact. Well sort of. A sucker punch from behind isn’t the proudest of retributions. But on the other-hand, I would still be standing.
It’s the afterwards I couldn’t be fucked with. I didn’t care about the result but all the drama beforehand. I reckon that is why so many people kill themselves. All that bollocks before they lock you up. All the shit before you die. Why not just save time and miss out all that crap.
But I didn’t have the guts to do it myself. I wanted someone to do it for me. In fact I insisted on it. That is why I have followed him here. It’s perfect. They don’t fuck about. I wonder if you can still request how it’s done?
I need to get this clear in my head. If I accept it but get away with it, I’ve won a watch so to speak. If I don’t then I have made peace with it.
Am I ready? Am I able to accept? I can sit here with all the gin instigated bravado in the world but I need to be clear. Can I take the final acceptance that I will die?
I don’t want to go on. But that can just be the drama that we would all feel. Maybe it is our minds trying to kid us that we are not selfish. Maybe we want to live on, be happy and find others. Suicide would then never be about loss, it would be us not wanting to be a self-centred bastard.
I look back at these words and see every contradiction. They say that we are in turmoil. That is contradiction. I only need one revelation and that is do I want to do this? I know I should. I know I want to. But do I really not care about the consequences. According to me I don’t.
This has all been a gesture. An expensive gesture. And a pointless one at that. No fucker knows that I am here and no-one knows that he is here. In a way I’m glad. How could I have faced anyone. I suppose I could have played the ‘I remember what you said’ card. That is if they had said anything.
…I’m a lying to myself bastard.
I’ve grieved long enough.
…I’m going to pay for a whore and go home.
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