The Story of My Suicide.
I was 16 when I committed suicide, I am 28 now.
This story of My Suicide was written in 2004. I am still learning so much about this life, but I can say, that I came away with a knowing of God, of the existence of this presence. It is the biggest treasure I have from this experience. I by no means fear to live anymore!!
I woke foggy and disoriented. This was my Aunt's house, and to leave my human fluids all over her bed would be disrespectful. So with every ounce of life left in me I crawled off my top bunk bed.
"Hell, why was I awake, why wasn't I dead?"
Clawing my way to the bathroom, where I emptied my shell. Vomit, piss, love, I lay in this pool of human waste, a mere metaphor of what I had become. I lay there for awhile, I thought of calling someone, I didn't want to make it, I wanted it over. All the grief the misunderstanding, the sadness of loss. I just wanted out, I had my fill after the 72nd pill. This was my biggest tragedy.
I clawed my way to my Mothers bed, stinking and wet with my own insides, I climbed into her bed sobbing as my death grew closer. My mother made room in her bed, possibly lifted her head, and asked if I was OK. I died there, snuggled with my Mother, her voice the last I heard.
I awoke in this life, tragically similar to the one I had just left. My Mother would not let me out that easily. There are lessons to learn. Everything SEEMED as it was. Still the same problems, but with much less attachment.
I didn't see lights, hear voices, or any of this. I was carried for months after that incident. I walked in a fog. My actions were almost guided. I was on auto pilot. It was like I was reincarnated, while being aware. This awareness only came to me when I grew much older. I wonder if any person shares this feeling. At least I have shared mine now, Thanks.
(I do not fear death for I have been to the bowels of the eternal slumber and have returned. For what reason? If I were to tell you, the people, you would not believe that truly there is not death. We are all living for the end of the never-ending story. E. K.)