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I have, and if you're thinking about it maybe my story can convince you otherwise. Let me take you back in time.
March 13th, 2010 around 9:30am
Only two days had passes since our son died. Our relationship crumbled at my feet a couple months prior, everything was lost. So on an instinct, I got up from the couch and I went and caught the bus to a local Walmart.
There, I bought a bottle of bleach, a bottle of ammonia and a small plastic container (or tote) about 2 ft x 14 in x 8 in.
After that, I decided to stop by a nearby liquor store and bought 2 40oz bottles of Steele reserves.
I had everything I needed, so I got on another bus. Only I wasn't heading back to where I was staying, no. I didn't want to die there. I wanted to die where my family died, at my now ex girlfriend's house.
The ride took about an hour and 15 minutes in between 3 busses. I got off and headed up the street, I knew she would be a work so I figured I would check around for a way in. The back door was unlocked so I let myself in.
I unpacked my stuff in a closet of a room I knew she didn't frequent. Then I searched through the house for a few things. A roll of duct tape, a couple candles and a pair of scissors. All of which were relatively easy to find.
And so the process began. I took the candles and placed them on the shelf in the closet and lit them, closed the closet door behind me and began to duct tape the edges so no air could get in which took me a good 15 minutes or so, trying to find all the little air pockets but eventually I was done.
I sat down and poured some bleach into the bin, took a drink from my 40 and lit a cigarette. I smoked it down slowly enough, the smoke practically filled the entire closet just from that one cigarette.
I sat for a moment, thinking about everything. How things fell apart between us, the death our boy, how many things he would never get to experience.
I sat for probably about 40 minutes or so just thinking, smelling the combination of cigarette smoke and bleach, burning my nostrils.
Even the sting wasn't enough to dull out the pain in my head. So I figured screw it, I opened up the ammonia bottle and I poured it in, stirring it with the spray nozzle it had on it.
Gas slowly bellowed up from the bin and I took another swig of my 40. I sat back, my body hunched over inside the closet. It wasn't big enough to accommodate me with my legs extended, so I had to keep my legs half way bent the whole time.
I just remember flashes of thoughts and memories. Memories that never existed, of playing with our son in the grass of an open field. Watching him smile while his eyes lit up.
A warm, summer breeze washing through his hair as she looked on at us. Embracing my son and picking him up and walking over to her. She kissed him on his forehead and then her eyes followed up to mine and she kissed me as we held our pride and joy between us.
I must've passed out, when I came to, several hours had passed by. The smoke and fog were no longer lingering in the closet but the smell was still sort of fresh, only a slight staleness to it.
So I opted to drink up the rest of my first 40 and afterwards I poured a bit more bleach in, and I had drank too fast, I was getting a buzz rather quickly. So in a rush I poured a few glugs of ammonia in and gave it another stir and the fog billowed out again. I sat back and watched, keeping an eye on the candles up top.
Not long after, one of them went out and I thought to myself that the oxygen must've been getting really low. I just remember watching the remaining flame flicker, casting shadows on the walls.
I must have kept going in and out of consciousness. Time seemed to keep skipping around, 20 minutes here, 30 minutes there.
It was getting close to the time that she would be coming home. I needed to get this done and over with. I needed her to know how badly I was destroyed inside.
So I hunched myself over to pour a bit more bleach and a bit more ammonia and the clouds came again, only this time I didn't seem to lose consciousness at all, no.
I could feel a cold breeze, running across my arms at first. I panicked, I thought air was getting in so I ran my hands over the tape to make sure nothing had come lose, nothing did. But I was still feeling this cold wind moving up and down my skin.
It moved into my chest and down into my stomach and I felt like I was going to throw up but the urge never struck, it was just the feeling of it. Then down to my legs and then down my back. Last but not least I began to feel it in my fingers and my toes.
I thought to myself that this was it, I was finally going to be done with this. I sank back and accepted the coming end. A welcome end, I didn't want to be here anymore. I had lost enough in this life. I had suffered enough here, God had taken everything from me.
I began to feel woozy and my eyelids began to sink further and further until they finally closed. Now I want to take this time to say that I am not a religious man. I don't believe that God actually exists and at that point in life, I was conflicted between atheism and theism. You'd think my experience would've changed that, but it never did.
I say that because as I drifted away, I began to feel like water was running all over me. Like my skin had turned inside out and as I sat there, I began to see this red mist below me.
When I first saw it, I couldn't be certain but I had this overwhelming feeling that this was not good at all. I began to float down into the mist and as I did, I could hear what sounded like heavy machinery and after a bit, the mist began to clear away and I could see this massive machine below me and in an instant, I knew it wanted to harm me but i couldn't stop it now.
The machine became clearer to me as I got closer, revealing spikes and chomping bits and conveyor belts that feed into the pits of spines. Razor blades. I got close enough to see what looked like things being impaled, shredded, chewed up by this machine and I couldn't feel my body anymore.
At that moment, a loud thud awoke me back, the door flung open and the brightness blinded me. A hand reached in and pulled me out, no it wasn't God, it was my ex girlfriend.
She didn't even know I was in there, she was talking to me, I could barely see her lips moving. Everything was blurry and it was like I was seeing triples of her mouth moving.
I couldn't make out anything she said. I was limp, but my eyes were barely open. I watched her grab her cell phone and I could see the light turn on as she flipped it open.
I could feel air beginning to pour in through my nose, the burning sensation of it. Like someone had poured the hottest hot sauce down my nose.
She then took me by my arm and dragged me out into the living room by the couch. My body was barely on autopilot, it hurt to breathe but my body was doing it.
She began talking to me again and I could finally make out words. She kept asking if I could hear her, I blinked my eyes, it was all I could do. My mouth would not open and my head couldn't move.
The odd thing was, as exhausted as I was, I wasn't tired. I was awake, aware. She got really close to me and asked me to blink if I could understand her and I blinked and she let out this huge sigh and she turned back to me and she looked me in the eye and said something to the extent of "if you ever try to do this again, I'll kill you myself".
I couldn't blame her. She was frustrated and pissed but there was still love behind her words. For a moment I though maybe we could try again. But I knew as well as she did, I had done way too much damage already.
A short time passed and cops showed up and she got upset. Turns out she didn't call the cops. She called her best friend, her best friend was the one who called the cops.
So they came and they took me away inspite of her begging them to just let me be, to let me stay and there was that twinge of feeling again. Like if I could've stayed, we could've worked things out, but that was delusional thinking at best.
I really messed my body up, as you might imagine I had a severely low oxygen level and blood tests revealed there were a large number of dead cells in my blood.
I had officially died. They couldn't say for how long, but I did die. The only question was, was what I saw the result of hallucinations caused by the lack of oxygen, or was it real?
That's something I'll never know. You could speculate all day and night but you can never say with any full certainty that one way or the other were what happened. Either one is just as likely as the other.
Yet, even if you want to say oxygen deprivation. The point of this is that you shouldn't attempt suicide, period. It is not fun and it can really fuck you up if you end up surviving.
So just don't do it! That's my message to you. Do NOT do it.
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Wow. I'm glad you survived and are back with us.
ReplyThank you for sharing that.
ReplyWhoa thank you for sharing your story.
Reply