Cellphones & Suicide

Paulsboro, New Jersey. I should already be in North Carolina, but I decided to tell the world to go take a hike. Had a nice, long nap. I’m in no hurry. Technically my load doesn’t deliver until 19:00 on Tuesday. I’m supposed to take my load down to our dropyard in Elm City, NC, which, as I said, should have been done already.
I’ve had one of those days. One of those weeks. I was about to go as far as to say that I’ve had one of those lives, but we’re skating dangerously close to self-pity there, and I don’t really feel that way. I’m alive. Which means I’ll go have at it like I always do. What else is there, really?
My cellphone was stolen today. I left it in the bathroom at a shipper. I realized this about five miles down the road and turned around. But when I got back, no cellphone. There were only three possible suspects. None of them knew anything about it, and they all looked guilty as hell. What do you do, right? I called Sprint and cut off service. Hopefully whoever took the phone will develop a nasty butt rash. Yeah. Raw, red monkey butt.
I’ve been also thinking about something lately that I’m hesitant to mention. I hope that before anyone jumps down my throat for even thinking it, you’ll read on and realize what I’m trying to say.
Well, there’s no delicate way to put it, so I’ll just toss it out there. I’ve been thinking of suicide lately. Not that I’m planning to kill myself or anything. I mean the idea of suicide, not the imminent act.
Okay, here’s what led to that. I had a cut or something on my tongue the other day. It was really sore, and staying true to family tradition, I immediately started wondering if this might be cancer.
Look, my mother was one of eleven children. Of those eleven, four of them have had cancer and three have died from it. It’s a real possibility in my family. And anyone in my family who has a sudden pain or anything out of the ordinary automatically wonders if their number has come up.
Anyway, I thought to myself that if I was to get cancer, I’d just kill myself. That’s enough for me. Thank you, I’m done. Check please! We’ve all thought similar things in the abstract. But what surprised me was that this wasn’t abstract. This was real. I meant it. Given everything that’s happened of late and how fate just seems to be piling it on, I think something like that would be the final straw. I could literally see myself pulling the plug. I even sort of took to the idea.
I guess that’s what surprised me. Suicide has never been an option. I’ve never once in my life thought about it as a real possibility. It disturbs me that I have done so now. I used to say that I had no pity for someone who committed suicide, because they had given up, and if you give up the bastards win. But, really. Let’s face it. The bastards won a long time ago.
However this may sound, all these thoughts happened over the last couple of days. The cellphone had nothing whatsoever to do with it. In fact, one gentleman told me I seemed alwfully calm for someone who had just had their cellphone stolen. I told him “what did I expect, really?” After all, I’m the one who laid it down. And in fucking New Jersey at that.
I do somewhat understand what drives someone to commit suicide now. It’s not some random act. It’s not some horrific event. It’s just the piling on. One thing after another after another, until someone finally reaches their limit. You reach that point where oblivion is welcomed. I also understand how it’s a cry for help, or a cry for attention. Everyone likes to think that they matter, but sometimes the silence is deafening. The thought of becoming the center of attention for performing such a dramatic act is something that appeals to the base human psyche.
I don’t think there’s any good way to talk about this subject. We all have a knee-jerk reaction to it. We all spout cliche’s at people who think about it. “You have so much to live for,” et al. For me it will be “you have so much talent / it would be such a waste.” That’s not arrogance talking. I’ve heard that before.
But let’s face it. Except for the few people in our core group (meaning immediate family and loved ones), who really gives a fuck that any of us are here? Oh, if we killed ourselves, people would eat up the melodrama, and they’d flagellate themselves with self-serving sentiments such as “I should have been there” or “somebody should have done something.” But in the end, when you killed yourself, you were all alone, and no one knew there was a problem, did they?
Yeah. It disturbs me that I understand it. No. I’m not planning anything. I haven’t reached that point yet. But I understand it. That bothers me more than anything.

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