(written in 1983)

I advocate, condone or suggest nothing with this writing. This is a record of my pain. I am simply exposing my sickness and how I feel.

euthanasia >noun the painless killing of a patient suffering from an incurable disease or in an irreversible coma.
-ORIGIN from Greek eu 'well' + thanatos 'death'.

It is time to go

Is it wrong to end an utterly useless existence? I am besieged with the thought and desire to end my sufferings on this planet. There is none to say what exactly is right or wrong, who out there dictates how much a Human Being should suffer? I am plagued with a disease that I no longer wish to bear; I have existed for nearly half a century and can bear no more. No longer do I joy at things, no longer do I relish awakenings, just by making these feelings known, am I somehow disturbed or unbalanced? Is that the monocle for the truly honest?

I am devoid of any feelings. I am empty, how lonely is Lonely? I am without God, understanding or compassion. There is no empathizing me. I’m down to writing these pathetic lines of dribble, an attempt to pen my pain to page. I am trying to reach a medium where I am able to feel at ease, I wonder which is the worse, to be around for the pleasure of Family (even though the suffering is great) or to end the suffering at the cost of causing the Family pain.
Interesting dilemma. Failure on top of failure, living in places not my own. How degrading to burden not only oneself but to do so to others too. These are the components that put ease and sense into the thought (plan). Any intelligent human being would arrive to the same conclusion.

It is time to go.

How often I long for the winds of travel. I desire new roads underfoot and Orion to light my way. I gather that the lack of responsibility and the promise of adventure were the lure that beckoned. Younger were my eyes and great was my enthusiasm. Now I long for those times. I know not when things changed but change they did. I no longer thrill as I did, my life is fun filled no longer. I suffer more than I would like to admit. My legacy has changed to one of sorrow and self-pity. What have I become? Have I become what I was destined to be or have I twisted that what was to be to what is? Either way I now seek release from this situation. I must think that I was made for better than this, I think that this must be penance for crimes committed and left unpaid.

How different was my life in the past? My joys were simple but magnificent. I have seen and experienced beautiful things. I must believe that all that was not for naught. How I desire the feel of desert winds on my skin or the spectacle of lights shown to me in desert storms. I will never forget the power and fury of a tsunami. Why does peace elude me so? Is it because I try to be as I am not? Am I donning the trappings of something that I am not meant to be? Am I living a lie? I tire of all these questions, for not knowing the answers grants me only pain. Pain, is my constant companion, besides Failure. I must leave. I must once again go where I am free.

I thought myself happy once; I tried the bonds of matrimony but tired soon afterwards. Failure. I tried the steady job thing but failure presented itself also. Failure pursues me; it has become a constant in my life. I know that seeking the past is folly, but I wonder if continuing as before, can I find happiness?

I know that I have become a burden to my loved ones. I do not want it to be so, what should I do? I readily see the disappointment in their eyes, and it pains me so. I feel really less than. Why does it have to be this way? I hurt in such a lonely way. If there were a God, would he be a merciful God and take my breath away as I slept? Please let it be so. I am ashamed of what I have become. There are myriad thoughts as to what I can do but all these are permanent. I really hate being weak or a whiner (qualities, I abhor in an individual). I suppose that if I were strong I’d handled this long ago. The question would be “what” or “how?” So here I am, a prisoner of my own fears and shortcomings.

I have no fear of death; Lord knows, All that is left is the choosing of the time and place of my departure. I feel nothing else, but I feel no remorse at maybe condemning my soul for an eternity. Time will erase all memory of my deeds or person. I will probably be spoken of in lament or pity, but in the end, I hope to be free.

I hate myself

My time draws near. I wonder how it will be? I know not when but I do know how. I will lie down to sleep and leave this reality. I wonder if while in dream state will this world dissolve and another concrete itself, or simply, will I just be damned? Who cares? I am slowly being left with nothing. I am now losing the material (for I lost Hope long ago). I am heading on a one-way trip. There is no coming back. This situation is Irrevocable, unstoppable—a one way trip..

I have been journalizing my thoughts for months; these writings are a record of my thoughts during a 3-month period. It is obvious that I have been in a downward spiral for sometime now. I have lost all that is essential for self-preservation.

Families tend to personalize an act such as this, they mourn and lament the cruelty of the person committing said act; they see the act itself as injurious or in some cases hateful to them.
They do not take in account how much pain and suffering would it take for a rational person to commit such an act in the first place. They lose sight that what the person is doing is freeing themselves. Some of us deserve to try to get back as much (dignity) as possible. I have lost control of my life. It satisfies me to be in control my death. The very thought pleases me immensely.

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
Forever and for ever.
Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea
A rivulet then a river:
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be
For ever and for ever.
But here will sigh thine alder tree
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.
A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be
Forever and forever.