Yeah, you'd think so. I thought so. But I can't get myself to die. After death, there's nothing.
And I understand now why some people say it's terrifying. Between decades of suffering or eternity of nothing, what would you choose?
Don't half ass the answer, go on a bridge with a heavy backpack zip tied to yourself, put a loaded gun to your head or have a fistful of TCA pills in your hand, whatever, then answer it.
I don't want to live, but I ain't keen on dying either, to paraphrase Robbie Williams.
I really wouldn't mind being killed by something out of my control, though.
I was depressed for a lot of the last ten years. I thought about ending it all a lot. Part of my calm acceptance now is because of facing it so much back then.
If you're seriously contemplating it, because life is suffering, know that it's not always like that. This too shall pass. There are good times too. My life now is something I could not have imagined achieving back when I was depressed and couldn't see any future for myself. Life is also randomly wonderful. I'm incredibly grateful to my past self for struggling on through, not ending it, and getting us to here. Here is good.
Of course, this too shall pass. Enjoying the good times in full is important, because they won't last. I hope I have the courage to face my next set of bad times with the same fortitude as my past self faced them.
Quite so. Lots of people worry about the time they'll "spend" not being alive after they die, but nobody ever seems to worry about they time they spent not being alive before they were born. In the context of the wider universe, "not being" is what you are doing the vast amount of time. The century or so that you are alive is the exception.
