I can't wonder what was going through Suzy's head when she killed herself because I know. This is from my SUPERSECRETOMG 2001 journal:
"Hi. My name�s Morgan. And I�m sitting in a lounge on what I�ve been told is a beautiful campus by myself. No one has come to say hi to me. No one has asked me how I�m doing today. Somebody asked me how my weekend was last night, but someone interrupted me before I could say that I�d had a good weekend, smoking and drinking by myself.
I don�t want to exist anymore. I can�t do this anymore. It�s. Not. Worth. It. �You can always call me� people say. �No matter what time, I�ll be there.� Hm. Why don�t you call me?
Maybe I don�t want help. Maybe I�m the one who�s supposed to kill herself so everyone who knows me can think, �I am a stronger person because of this.�
Joanna: �Well, you never call me. I�d love it if you called me more.� Hi, is my phone ringing?
Esp: I called you yesterday when I needed you. Where were you then? Why haven�t you called back?
Mom: I hope you�re happy with stuart.
Matt: the source of all my problems. Go smoke some more. It�ll make everything all right.
Dad: I have no respect for you. I love you, but I have no respect for you. I always wanted to tell you that.
Don�t give me a funeral or a wake or whatever or anything. Don�t do anything. Donate my body to science or something. I don�t want to exist anymore. Forget about me. I was never that great of a person to begin with. Well, maybe I was, but it was all downhill from here. Trust me, it�s better this way.
And don�t be all like, there was nothing we could have done. There�s always something that could have been done. It would have been nice for someone to not just think I�ll figure it out on my own, even though I said I would. You should have locked me up when you had the chance. So what will you learn from this? Ask someone how they are doing and wait around for the answer. Don�t just ask if you can help; do something. Unless you really don�t care. And then you can just go fuck yourself.
This isn�t just another wasted life. All lives are wasted. Life is pointless. Right, Christine? We�re nothing.
I understand Zen up to that point. Ok, we�re nothing, we have no affect on the universe. I accept that. What bothers me is what�s the point after that?
If I were to kill myself, say, take a bunch of pills, should I lay down in my bed and wait until someone notices I�m not moving? That would actually be kind of amusing. �Morgan. Uh. Morgan? MORGAN!� Psh. Suckers.
You know what would be ironic and exciting? Death by Prozac. I would really, really enjoy that.
Really really.
Maybe that�s all I have to say. Good bye for now."
Also, I've always had imaginary conversations:
"'Hey, what are you doing?
'Contemplating the mysteries of the world, you?'
or:
'Knitting a sweater, you?'
or:
'Fucking a sheep, you?'
or:
'Falling in love all over again, you?'"
I used to have such a great sense of humor. I'm going to use each of those tomorrow when my coworkers inevitably ask me what I'm doing.
And this little pearl of wisdom:
"I�m so used to being surrounded by people who want me to be happy so I�ll be happy. Here, I�m surrounded by people who want me to be happy so I won�t bring them down. And those are my friends."
And, you know, epitomes of me:
"Nothingness. Zen nothingness. How can nothingness be Zen? How can nothingness result in anything but supreme apathy? How can one even bother with the most futile existence if it doesn�t really exist? How can existence not exist if it�s already existing? How can Chris not love me?"
At least I find this humorous now.