Suicide Buddies - Prologue

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[A BRIEF DISCLAIMER]
[This story discusses elements of suicide, violence, substance abuse, domestic abuse. Some of these topics are discussed extensively, others minimally, but all are mentioned in the entirety of this book. If any of these topics trigger you, please refrain from reading on. Thank you.]




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acrophobia (n.)

ac·​ro·​pho·​bia

Extreme or irrational fear of heights.






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My mother once told me there are three, and only three, truly defining moments in your life.

One: When you don't know.

Two: When you realize you don't know.

Three: When you know.

She never said what the knowing referred to, however. Life, people, places, yourself, someone else. The words were spoken to me on the last trip we took together when I was nine on a red eye flight to Seoul. On a last flight to Seoul.

Through eighteen years of life, I still didn't entirely know what she was talking about. Some part of me assumed she meant the meaning of life. Your purpose or your story or some other motivation the TedTalks and your subpar college essay has to offer.

But as I came to learn, that was all mostly bullshit.

Mostly. But still bullshit.

Currently, I'd like to say I'm at the second moment, in that I don't know. Because I don't. And therefore I'm well aware of my complete lack of knowledge. I've been aware for a while now.

I don't have much of a bone to pick with Life as much as I do Death. Life put me through a few ringers, sure, but Death left me high and dry and hanging. Death left me to Life, and hell if that wasn't a shitty move to pull.

Barely eighteen and already hell-bent on emptiness. I could be a CNN segment.

Sometimes I wish I had ended it all when I was at step one. Obliviousness is enemy to man—or something—but it feels better than being consciously aware of your own lacking. No one cares if you don't know shit and you think you're the greatest when you're a kid. No one cares and then suddenly everyone does, and you have to keep up.

If I didn't know I didn't know, then maybe greeting the end would feel more dramatic; something like a true, well-credited ending rather than a pause without a play button. When you end it all in the second step, it's more anti-climactic and frustrating than anything.

But this isn't about the second step. This is about the third one.  Which, in my opinion, is the most interesting one.

Then again, what do I know?



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It was January 27th, and I was going to die.

I wasn't much of a planner, so the process of how was as short and sweet as I could possibly make it.

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