«I want to commit suicide»

Is man piece of shit?

A sort of world outlook crisis happened with me in ** year. I practiced philosophy and came to the opinion that all the religious views are just a way to survive, saving self-deception, there is no God, and after death there is nothing but non-existence. Man is shit by nature, I am also a man, that means that I am shit. So, as an honest man (ha-ha!) I decided to put a stop with one piece of shit, i.e. with myself.

Mother? Neighbors? Friends? They are also people, i.e. they are… Why should I pity them? That is their problems.

I know pretty well how this program of self-destruction starts, how it seizes a man, his will, thoughts, feelings. It does not let him to do a step back, it makes a man to look at all the arguments for life as a personal insult. Of course, the man is himself the author of the program and he acts in co-authorship with devil.

I chose the most reliable, as I thought, way to commit suicide – a very quiet way that would not disturb anybody. Once on Saturday I took dimedrol, a huge doze, it should have been enough. When I swallowed last portion of tablets I thought: ‘What can You say now? Where are You? You don’t exist!’ It was said to God.

I fell asleep, forever, I thought then, and saw nightmares. I was in a big hall with columns, it was dark and heavy, I stood with a bowl, some liquid yellow like ochre in it, and ‘gave communion’ to some suffering people, who came to me one by one. They were queuing like a python. At first they were ordinary people, then some disgusting signs became visible in them, they were already not people but monsters with rotting spots and some features of rotting corpse round their big open mouths. The last was such a shocking  pygmy that I just poured on his head the rest of the liquid. At that moment the bowl turned into something resembling a rusty can. Plenty of fiery spiders crept in my direction from behind of the columns. They crept on my body and burnt me. Very painful.

Then I don’t remember. I opened my eyes when it was 11 a.m. and had the feeling of disappointment. Nobody had ever scoffed me so cruelly: the window, the sky, the sun, clouds in it! I did not want to give up. My heart began stopping, I couldn’t move a finger. The heart was beating as loud as a bell and then calmed down. When it stopped beating, a half of me said: ‘Stop, please, and my life will be over’. The other half cried: ‘Please’ anybody, call the ambulance!’

Somebody of those who went home until Monday came back to our room, called the doctor, he made me gastric lavage and sent me to resuscitation - everything as usual. Later they let me go home i.e. to the student’s hostel from the hospital. They did not send me to psychiatry clinic, probably because I was one of the best students and was going to get a diploma with all ‘A’s. I was under the supervision of our psychiatrist and easily deceived her saying that ‘I’m a silly girl, I repent, want to live and so on’.

I was angry nearly for a week and was inventing new way to commit suicide, more reliable. I felt that I was a piece of shit that even could not die. However, I was a proud piece of shit: I must correct the mistake myself!

Once at night, when I was laying and inventing a new way to commit suicide, the door opened and a neighbor-girl entered the room. She bent forward to me in the darkness and said: ‘Jesus loves you!’

People! Tears gushed from my eyes! How I cried! Yes, He loves me, a piece of trash! I challenged Him, I split in His face, I rejected Him – despite all this He did not let me die! Is not it the upper level of Divine Mercy?

You see, there are no logical arguments for this experience. It was a real meeting with God, with merciful God. It is like in the book of Iob but inside out. Logical arguments are dead, conversations are senseless. God showed Himself – and won.

Certainly, I wanted to match This Love and I got out with the help of God. I understood (He gave me such an opportunity) that I’m not trash by nature, that there is His plan in me, my soul. I’ve got no right to damage it. Otherwise I’ll really become a heap of feces and my place will be among those rot disgusting creatures.

The only aim to write this story was to help others.

Even if we don’t trust in God, He trusts in us.

( 12 voices: 2.75 of 5 )



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See also
Suicide methods: or How to come off (Peter Rozumni, expert in forensic medicine)
Suicide мethods. Suicide without rose-colored spectacles (Michael Khasminski, crisis psychologist, Peter Rozymni, expert in forensic medicine)
How to die unprettily, or last hi to dears (Michael Khasminski, crisis psychologist)
Don’t dream to have life full of happiness only (Andrey Lorgus, priest )
Who is self-murderer? (Michael Khasminski, crisis psychologist)
Suicide thought comes from angels of darkness (Serge Nickolaev, archpriest )
I just died. The story of suicide (Natasha M., 28 years old)
Planned suicide (Evelyn, 20 y.o.)
Low self esteem leads to pathological dependence on other people (Psychologist Irene Rakhimova)
Right for suicide (Dmitri Semenik)

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