At some point, I will successfully kill myself. It is inevitable. There are times I’ve convinced myself that I can improve my quality of life to the point where I will no longer have to do that. But by this point I’ve dug myself into so many double binds–damned if I do, damned if I don’t–that I cannot really imagine a future that doesn’t end in suicide. And this is comforting. I get to decide when it’s over. All I need is a little privacy, a .45 caliber handgun, and several plastic sheets. Life is a pointless struggle. Death is easy.
The future is clear
Come on All You Ghosts 