I’ll preface this whole thing by saying “No, I’m not suicidal, this is just an exercise. I’m firmly happy in my existence and would prefer to stay this way for the foreseeable future.”
I’ve always had a kind of curiosity around suicide notes. Specifically, the words and thoughts people choose to be their last. What do you say to your parents, your siblings, your best friends? How honest are you, do you address everyone, do you keep it short and sweet, is the whole thing obscured behind the veil of mental illness? I was curious what mine would be like, how I would address people, what I would want to leave behind as my final words.
So, I wrote one. I tried to, at least. In my mind, it was going to be a very simple creative writing prompt where you can just put yourself into the headspace of someone giving their last words to all of their loved ones. It honestly didn’t feel too different from fiction, conceptually. Well, I was very wrong and I’m sort of surprised by how wrong I was. Despite knowing that this was all a haphazard attempt at further analyzing myself and my relationships with people and that it was in no way an actual note, every couple of sentences left me sobbing uncontrollably into my t-shirt. I made it through about two and a half pages before typing was entirely impossible and my emotions had been wrung out like a beach towel. It was strange how weirdly enlightening and cathartic even that little amount of writing was. I made it through the portion for my family and a couple of friends and I just felt drained. I don’t know. I’m still sort of shocked by how the whole thing went and the immediacy of the emotional reaction I had throughout. That’s where my writing energy went today, so I’ll leave this off here.
P.S. Again, I’m not suicidal nor do I have any plans to be. If this whole thing alarms you, just remember that you know me and that I am often stupid and misguided.
jeez, louise 