anx·i·e·ty

Entry # 47

On my 30th year, I should be gone.

A promise my 18 year old self made. Six years later, it remained the same.

I've always thought how I'd want to go. I'd probably rent a cheap hotel room and do it there. Leaving a note to whoever poor person had to see my lifeless body and call someone up. I'd probably just ask them not to panic, but to call a specific person I'll give my last wishes to.

I've been getting insurance policies, and each time, I'd look for the part where it says my family could still claim the money even if it's suicide.

I got three of those now. And planning to get more before my 26th birthday. Mostly because insurance companies require you to be alive for the first three years of your contract with them. After that, they won't care how you die, they'll give the money to whoever is your beneficiary.

That's just the beginning.

What happens after?

My mom would probably cry too much. My dad, yep, probably too. My siblings, I'm sure of. Friends? I wouldn't know.

But then where do I go?

My family had been roman catholics since I can remember. I even went to a catholic school for highschool and spent my six AMs, after flag ceremonies, before each class, after each class, twelve noons, three PMs and six PMs praying. I memorized the latin and spanish and other versions of Our Father, prayed 2-3 hours of novena every Wednesday, went to church from Sunday to Friday and all those catholic cliches.

Yep, I wore that white, nun-like uniform too.

But I'd tell you something.

I don't believe in God.

I believe in a higher power. I believe in the Universe. I believe that someone or something oversees everything. But without an image, without the romanticization of religion. Without all the man-made bullshits someone thought of long ago.

Without all those words someone dead had written in a strange language, translated into another, and expressed in a seemingly different way than it might have been originally intended.

There is something to believe in somewhere out there. I'm sure of that.

But do I go to Hell?

If I kill myself, would I go to hell?

I'd say, it's okay. I don't need the threat of damnation to choose whatever I did. To choose which religion I should be, which words I need to follow.

I just need to be ready, and accept where I'll be sent to - if I really would be sent somewhere.

All the decisions I've made in my life are decisions I've made because I wanted it that way. Not because I'm afraid of my soul being burned for eternity, with pitchforks from the devils I spent my life trying to run away from.

My life was hell already in some way, so being tortured in hell for all eternity? It's something I probably can tolerate.

And I probably even deserve it.

Because if following a specific rule set could save my soul, if believing in someone else's words would do it, then where's the truth in my life then?

Doing all that's listed in some doctrine because I'm a selfish bastard who wants to get saved?

I'd help people because I love helping people. I'd be a better person because I want to be a better person. I'll lead a better, short life because I wanted it that way. Not because I'm afraid I'll get sent to hell.

And if I'll get sent to hell for believing in my right to die, whenever and wherever I want to?

Then I'll embrace hell's fire and befriend the demons.

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