cw: suicide
extra layer of cw: this is a suicide note.
i have withdrawn the money from my bank account that was going to pay rent for december to buy a handgun and ammo, which i will now use to kill myself. this post is a scheduled post that will publish at 10am monday december 5. it is now sunday december 4 at 12:20 pm eastern time.
my intention is to aim for the heart, as seeing this worldâs cruelty has broken it. the cruelty of capitalism. the cruelty of transphobia and other far-right extremist beliefs. et cetera.
should there be no afterlife, the end of existence will be a mercy. should there be an afterlife, then it is where i go as a refugee from this life.
if there is no afterlife, this life doesnât matter. thereâs no point in persisting, in building something, if itâll all be gone one day. ozymandias indeed.
if there is an afterlife, this life matters even less in comparison. here, we struggle in vain every day to try to eke out the little bits of joy that can be found. but when weâre not experiencing those tiny joy bits, weâre collecting trauma.
nonexistence doesnât scare me. an afterlife doesnât scare me. even persisting in this world doesnât âscareâ me, iâm just not interested in doing it anymore. iâm not interested in spending each day seeing an endless deluge of advertisements trying to make me make this world worse. if thereâs an afterlife, they probably refer to this earth as âthe advertising planetâ or maybe even âthe spam planetâ. itâs garbage and i want off it right now.
so iâm leaving. the only thing that does scare me, is pulling the trigger. the moment of anxiety. all my hopes and fears converging on one single instant.
well, if you end up seeing this post, youâll know i pulled the trigger. whether it killed me is as of yet a mystery--people survive getting shot in the chest, after all. when the shot fires, everyone in the building will hear it and investigate. the door is locked, but only by deadbolt, not by the little chain hook thingy. if the shot isnât immediately lethal, they might be able to get me to a hospital. who knows. if the shot isnât immediately lethal and i remain conscious, my plan is to fire again--this baby holds 10 rounds! iâm not some sucker who only loads 1 round to kill myself like one asshole i know.
anyways. thatâs it for us.
Morgan Dee, the captain Falcon, the first mate Unit M.L.E., the navigator Diedre, the shipâs doctor The Critical Chorus aka The Pestilence Choir, the crew Meskle, a stowaway and perhaps others






















