For those of you who know me, I am King Neptune. We live in a world of unrealistic expectations and ideals.
Why would I make such a statement?
The "King" has struggled with suicide since the 1980s.
It has been a struggle within the last year and a half, as I have had a reluctance to consistency in posting.
What is it about life that we find ourselves lost in a quagmire of inconsistencies?
I find myself sitting in an orchard full of lemon trees, breathing in the aroma of life, yet I sit with a loaded Colt .45 wanting to take my life.
I put the loaded .45 in my mouth and attempt to pull the trigger. It is raining as I feel the raindrops dripping from my face and I feel the rain dripping from the gun inserted into my mouth.
This is another attempt among many in which I find myself here, in this moment in time asking, WHY?
I think back to my talks with shrinks and realize they are human, will they respond to a text on a Friday at 2100?
No? What am I thinking? People have lives, how is it possible that anyone would respond?
I think, call the suicide hotline, what was the number?
I don't remember, and then that thought triggers the thought to move forward with pulling the trigger.
Why?
Because I have difficulty remembering what to do next in my life. I think back to my checklist, where is it now? It is in the coach where I left it.
How realistic is it to call a stranger and let them know that I am contemplating taking my life?
Who can I call that I know? Who can I call at this time of night and have someone in my corner?
I can think of no one.
Is this realistic?
Is it possible to have a network of people to help me talk me down from the ledge?
No...........
People have their lives and struggle with their issues, who am I to think that they should shoulder the burden of my emotions?
Why would I proceed to place them in that area of responsibility?
Who am I to include them into a failed attempt and let them shoulder the responsibility for my demise?
This is why suicide hotlines fail. It is an unrealistic expectation of an unrealistic ideal and that is why I am still alive.
Not because I have refused to call for help, it is that help is non-existant when you live in a brain full of unrealistic expectations, one filled with questions of why I am here.
The only reason I am here is the question, WHY?
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