My Last Day Alive

“Finally, I got my LSD. Tonight I’m really going to do it. Tonight I’m gonna go home, trip my balls off, and eventually end everything. For once my plan has worked out and I can finally get all of this over with.”

It was nine years ago today that those thoughts rolled gently through my head. I was still a senior in high school and had made up my mind that I was done dicking around with “suicide attempts” and was finally going to do the job right.

In a way it was a rather strange day. I didn’t skip any classes that day because I wanted to be around my friends one last time. The one day that was supposed to be the last day of my life was the day I chose to actually notice things and appreciate people.

None of my friends had any idea what my plans for the evening were. They all went about their days as if January 31st, 1997 had no particular significance. I thought it was a bit odd at first, but then remembered that they had no reason to think that it would be anything other than an ordinary day. I was the only one with big plans that night.

To be honest, I was a bit sad that day. I was going to miss all of the people I knew and had grown up with. I was gonna miss going cruising and acting stupid with Steve-O. I was gonna miss all the fun times Ryan and I had while making pizzas at Pizza Hut. I was gonna miss getting to waste an hour every day sitting in the darkroom talking to Melissa about anything and everything under the sun. I was gonna miss the way that Alex (yes, a girl) thought that everything I did was hilarious and that I was her “horse” and that I owed her a piggyback ride every time she saw me.

As the day went on, things got a bit stranger-almost surreal. I couldn’t believe that I was never going to experience any of that again. I couldn’t believe that I was seriously going to go through with it.

I had to slap myself back to reality on more than one occasion so that I would remember why I wanted to do what I was going to do, and not wuss out.

I got home that night and the whole tripping thing went just as planned. Well, until I had to pee and accidentally looked in the bathroom mirror as I walked by.

I walked out of the bathroom four and a half hours later.

By then I was starting to come down and thus didn’t quite have the balls to go digging box-cutter blades into my wrists. So I figured I’d take my parent’s van and go plow it into a highway overpass.

It’s possible that the drugs in my system marred my perception of the events I’m about to recall, but I’m fairly sure that I’m telling them accurately. Speedometers don’t lie (if they’re working right, as the one in my parent’s van was).

That night happened to be one of those nights that was just on the verge of being cold and not-quite-cold. The freezing rain coated all the roads with a shimmering glaze of ice.

I figured I really didn’t care if I crashed or not, since that was my ultimate goal anyways, so I went tearing through town. I was running stop signs and stop lights and doing 75 mph around 40 mph curves (on icy roads) with a van that had shitty tires. Yet somehow, I never lost control. I never spun out. Fuck, I never even fishtailed.

The whole weirdness of my ability to drive like Knight Rider on ice took over my thoughts and I pulled into a gas station to check out the van and see if perhaps I had spikes in my tires that were keeping me from losing control.

I ended up seeing my friends Nate and Gabe at the gas station and instead of finishing off my plan I spent the night going through the automatic car wash over and over in a little Dodge Omni that had more holes than a noodle strainer.

So no, I didn’t die that night (as may be apparent by now).

Sometimes though, and especially today, I wonder if maybe it would’ve been better if I had. Perhaps the world would’ve been a better place without me taking up space and being here.

You see, I realized yesterday as I was pondering some things that I’m sort of a volcano of pain (yes, I’m aware it’s a stupid analogy). Not only am I full of it but I spew it on everyone around me.

I tried very hard and very honestly yesterday to think of a single person that I’ve ever cared about at all in my life that I didn’t end up hurting. I couldn’t think of a single one. Not only that, but it seems the more I care about someone, the more pain I eventually cause them.

Why does this happen? I dunno. Why do I do it? I dunno, cause I suck. It’s not something I do intentionally. It’s just the way things eventually turn out.

Talk about being a fuckup. All I really want to do is be normal and happy and be able to love, and the one thing that I’m good at, that I excel at, is causing pain for the very people I want to be nice to. Maybe I’m cursed or maybe I’m just defective, I’m not sure.

It’s amazing that the smiling little boy who used to be so happy could turn into the monster that lives in my skin. That the little guy who loved to drive around and look at Christmas lights and who wanted to be Superman could hurt every single person he wanted to care about. That of all the things the little boy has done in his life, none of them has killed him yet.

After spending all day yesterday trying and failing to think of anyone even remotely dear to me whom I haven’t hurt, all I wanted to do was get done with work and come home and get hammered. I knew it wouldn’t help. I knew it would only make things worse. I guess it’s just still a bit of a reflex from my “drinking days.”

I ended up having to work late though and had to go to this big meeting deal with my boss and some other guys. Then my boss took us all out to this fancy steakhouse for dinner. It’s weird how eating ridiculously-priced food (especially when someone else is buying) can help smooth out some of the jagged edges of depression.

I wish I could take back or undo the many things I’ve done wrong. I wish I wouldn’t be so fucking dumb when I do things that still hurt people. I wish there was a way for me to right all the wrongs. I wish there was some way for me to take the pain back from those I’ve dealt it to. I wish I was different.

But I’m not.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I wish I could make it all better.

*
“My inner voices
Are part of my disease
Cause it’s pushing me to hurt you
But killing you is just killing me.”
*Ill Nino