If you search the internet for ways to kill yourself, the first notice that usually comes up is a suicide hotline followed by the first page full of blogs giving one reasons why they’re amazing people who need to stay alive regardless of their circumstances.
This frustrated me endlessly because I didn’t have the juice to repeatedly chase suicide click bait articles that turned out to be the exact opposite of helping one planning to end their lives. It was so annoying to have some stranger who doesn’t know who I am or what I’m going through, give me a template on how to look on the bright side and stay positive about a life I truly wanted to end.
And so the last time I seriously considered suicide, I did the reverse.
I like the thought of going out as peacefully and as painlessly as possible. I wanted a simple method to 100% ensure I would die. So I searched for How To Not Die From Everyday Things Around You. That was how I found out about suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning. (It ranks quite highly in the list of full proof suicide methods, and for the right reasons.)
The more I thought about it the more perfect a way to die it seemed. It was set in stone, so much so I actually wrote a poem about it.
Months later, still hanging in there, I would come to watch 13 Reasons Why. And months more after starting the series, I would get to episode 13 which was the most heartbreaking of the whole series. I stopped a while when Hannah slashed at her wrists and did it again and again even though she was in so much pain; and crying, I could only imagine how much pain one had to be in, to choose wrist-slashing as the relief .
When Hannah’s parents later find her in the bloody bathtub, and her mom holds her saying more to herself that “it’s fine”, as if she could halt any of the damage already done, a horrifying realization halted me while I was bawling my eyes out.
In that moment, I thought back to my perfect suicide plan; to have painlessly died of carbon monoxide poisoning, in the bed in my sister’s house possibly with a letter to apologize more for my choice of ending than the actual act.
In that moment, my heart breaking with Hannah’s parents, it hit me with utmost terror that the first person to discover me might truly be my niece; rushing to my room like she’s done so many times before; to tell me how absolutely fun her day was, and what she totally hated about it.
And I knew then that I couldn’t do it there. I couldn’t do it while I was under anyone’s roof.
I do not have the heart to fill people’s homes with the black hole suicide leaves. I’d much rather die in a space of my own.