“Whenever I see one of those signs that say opioid use is a disease or that it kills, I write something like, “so did/was small pox”
Our ancestors needed blankets like today’s targets need relief.
In my opinion one of the hidden reasons they ban guns in this country is because if a bunch of people started shooting themselves in the face, it’d be a lot harder to call it an accident or write them off as junkies getting what’s coming to them, it’d be a lot harder to fudge the suicide stats into a story that blames the afflicted, be a lot harder to deny that for *target demographics* this country is so unlivable it would seem to be doing it on purpose.
You can’t get anything over the counter that could do the job assuredly enough, because they want to stamp out all other options but illicit substances that the users can be blamed for and they can’t have the fat cats taking any heat over their products, that’s a lawsuit.
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to jump but they’ve blocked off most areas certain to accomplish lifelessness, and even if you find one, overriding the body’s fear of heights takes a mental fortitude which has been largely suppressed amongst those who would seek the leap.
If you’ve ever tried striking an artery, you can probably attest to it being fucking hard to do.
Usually the desire to die, the hidden epidemic in the nation, is a desire to escape a great deal of pain, so inflicting more to get there is met with a seemingly automated resistance. Not only is it counter to the ultimate goal of exiting the pain, it also counters the simultaneous strong desire to survive, to live. Trying to breach these barriers is a desperate attempt when all other known available options have been thoroughly exhausted.
And if you fail, you risk being abandoned by all but the state, who will detain you and press charges if they can get away with it should you fail to make your escape. Everyone you know will hate and fear you for subjecting them to the mere concept of your pain, an intolerable reminder of their own which they dissociate from with all their might.
There’s an obvious statistical manipulation taking place regarding the matter of suicidality. It can be seen in the fact that if you admit to this, it will go on your file contributing to even more unbearable circumstances, and if you’re too open about it, you will be detained and forcibly drugged until you are variably coerced into taking it back and apologizing, though it won’t be enough to have your name removed from the list. It is systemically prohibited to reveal how unlivable this nation has become, and so we can go on saying everything is fine, but for ourselves, who must be the dysfunction to be so forlorn in such a *wonderful* place. We have been trained to keep this secret with a smile, lest we face physical, social and political punishment. If you want to die, they will deem you invalid and insane, no matter how just the cause may be, betraying the reality that any human under the same conditions would be prone to the same manner of desperate options. Admitting to this criminally common state of mind is strictly albeit unspokenly prohibited.
The only reasonable option for escape, really, is the drugs. They’re accessible, they won’t hurt, no big mess, and you can rely on an adequate dose to get you out.
If you fail and get caught, we can just call it a misuse of drugs, a far lesser infraction than admitting these conditions make hordes of us want to kill ourselves more often than we want to survive. If you don’t get caught, you just got high, an escape even if not the one you hoped for.
This way, we can call the epidemic of suicide and manslaughter (or whatever ya call pushing a person to the point of suicide with abuse) a “drug crisis”, cuz, the drugs did it right? We can just call the departed a careless junkie, no investigation required, no questions, the Vic is the perp, right? We can blame the drugs and the user and never wonder why or how they got to that point, how reasonable it may have been. I call it “non-existence ideation” now because they can’t arrest me for that. I’m not going to kill myself, I just want to die all the time with just cause, and I’m calm about it, it’s different. I’ve fantasized about this escape since about 5 and I’ve seen too many kids about the same age make the same claims. It’s been so bad for so long they’re making it normal, and villainizing the afflicted as liars and abusers for saying so without following through to uncaring bystanders who roll their eyes and dare us as they refuse to be manipulated by human compassion. The fact that I’ve made it this long is framed as proof that I never meant it when I always did, I just really hoped someone would help me rather than add to the hurt, negative reinforcement to train out the whincing and whimpering that cracks the facade of this *great* nation. In reality I’m still here because I’m both trapped and strong, hopeless and optimistic.
Being that most of those drowning in pain and chaos would take the soft, numb quiet way out, most people seeking suicide, when they abandon cries for help, will just pick up.
Hell, maybe the relief of the drug will keep them limping along for another couple years, adding to the framing that this is *just* a junkie, every one, a setting sun, this is just their fate for their choices, rather than the lack of them.
This way all the suicide numbers can be diverted into overdose numbers without inquiry into this lemming problem, pushing more people to restricting their search for chemical relief to the provided pharmaceuticals, which verily mask the screams and cries we keep locked in our basements as contraband. I wonder how many times I have been arrested, incarcerated, hit and screamed at for crying. You wouldn’t likely believe me even if I could recall. It’s a lot. Being abused for apparent suffering is a result I can rely on more than most things in this world. Draconian Countertranferrence.
Dr. Gabor Maté says “Ask not why the addiction, ask why the pain.”
If more people and institutions did this, we could all see what a radical statement this truly is in the paradigm we are currently trapped in.
Alas the powers that be want us in pain and seeking relief through addiction to what they provide. An addicted population that blames itself for being insufficient while stripped of the means to live a livable life; it has been foretold and here we are. This prophecy did not just fulfill itself.
I only have the occasional few drinks on the weekend and occasional dip of m to remind myself what love felt like. I would not be surprised if I die of an overdose on heroine or fentanyl which I’ve never tried but I hear are reliable escape routes. Whether staged or by my own forced hand, I’d call it murder and they’ll call it just another setting sun.
Never quite certain for whose reasons, I live out this death wish sentence another day. I suppose I will for many more days than I can bare to imagine. Clinging to clean living keeps me confined to the filth, so proud to suffer without relief, so maybe then I can say I don’t deserve this agony and someone will believe me, but I doubt it.”
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