I remember the days as a child, a teen and into my early adulthood those occasional nights when I asked and prayed to God not to wake me. I want to be so far away from the help on earth i was and in some ways am still living. I wanted to end to be peaceful and natural. Trying to cross that line between surviving and living because the only place I live is in a fantasy.
I wished for death because I was isolated confused and alone. I didn’t know where I belonged I didn’t understand who I was. I thought I was the only one feeling this pain. And now I have a much clearer understanding of who I am I still feel isolated.
I’ve spent a fair amount of time fantasizing about it and romanticizing about the idea of death by suicide. What is the purpose of life? Does that purpose vary depending upon the identities you hold? At 24 years old that felt easily like four decades.I still remain unaware of why I occupy space on this earth I am so far from who I want to be from the person I want the world to see. Part of my dilemma was I experienced so much pain in my life I wanted ironically end my life in happiness.
Long before I ever wrote it out for all the world to read I had a romantic fantasy about how I would end my own life. Before moving to New York was even a plan I knew Bergdof Goodman would be the place if ever. For as long as I could remember is always been enamoured with the iconic store perhaps most known for its grandiose and opulent holiday window displays. Probably the most glamorous store I was commoner would have access to. I’d stroll in taking in the warmth and aerodecence of the the fragrances that collided in the air. I’d smile to the make up artists and maybe even sit down to let them practice their skills on my face. Eventually I’d make my way over to evening wear and finally caress the $34,000 Valentino gown I lusted after. In the dressing room I’d take the gown and try it on. The lst garment is ever wear. Feeling the richness of the fabric on my body. I can’t take My eyes off of myself in the mirror. I think people underestimate how seriously I take the way I look it’s my lifeline the images of who I can and will become fuel me. I want to die as fabulously as I lived. Staring at myself in the mirror I’d be so happy I could die. From my purse I’d reach for a bottle and consume a fistful of pills. My body would begin to shut down and there I would die as alone as I lived looking as fabulous as I lived. I’d open my mouth and recite my last words:
“I am as vain as I allow I do hair I gloss my eyes I touch myself all through the night and when something falls out of place I take my time I put it back I touch myself til I’m on track
Up in the clouds floating higher than ever eh eh so happy I could die and it’s alright”