DRUGS A-Z

Siucide is neither painless, nor does it bring “so meny changes” as an old song may led you to believe. Chances are that you are more likekely than not to survive and left feeling even more miserable and pathetic, having failed. Maybe there is some higher power, tearing that belt, tied around your neck or directing the blade around that vital arthery or making you vomit, before the pills had a chance to fully dissolve in your stomach. Or maybe it is the subconscious way of self preservation, sabotaging the attempts. Father of my friend had shot  himself in the mouth with a hand gun at two different occasions, trying to end his life. He had survived both.
It`s not as easy as you may imagine. Hanging once self is allmost impossible within the parameters of an average apartement and plaster covered walls. No nail would support the crushing weight of your tired of living body. You see… a successfull hanging is done through the breaking of the spinall cord, not choking. A proper vein slising is done length vise, not across and an overdose is rarely lethal, since the chanses are that you are allready a junkey with a body easily able to tollerate a quadruple dose of allmost anything. It`s rarely painless either. Execution for example is not a mercifull way to end a life. Chopping off once head often took severall blows, while a hanging man was often struggling severall minutes, doing the “wallsing
Matillda”. The longest execution took 40 minutues by electrecution, still concidered at the time as the humain way. Lethal injection concists of 3 parts. Tranquilisers, muscle relaxant and the chemicall that actually kills you. One often is immune to the first two, having abused the same type of drugs. Time stops completely, terrifiyed unable to move, waiting.WAITING. 3 shots and you are out- the American policy was excecuting the lost souls for stealing a loaf of bread. Tied down and looking through the glass window at once relatives and the bunch of bystanders, who came just to take a peak. There is no  humain way to kill. Still I tried. Myself.
After drinking a bottle of Vodka and swallowing 50st of the Rohypnols, then climbed up the window, stretched my arms as if being crucified and jumped, landing on the tarmack, 14 meters below. I was still conscious, when my mother, having run down the stairs, lifted my head from the thick pool of blood. I wispered something incoherent, before passing out for the next half a year.
I didn`t fear death for as long as I can recall. How can one fear something one is not aware of, such as a permanent sleep? If there was to be some form of an afterlife, I heavilly doubt, that a God would ever send us to a permanent torture of hell. Pointless, isn`t it? Besides if we are able to forgive, the God must be even kinder, -I was grabbing religious straws, however by that time I`ve completely lost my faith. Most of the people, having a near death experience, feel deeper appreciation for the life. Not me.
 I didn`t feel specially bad on the day of the attempt, except for being bored out of my mind. Drugs did not work anylonger. I was snorting allmost  gramm of speed at a time, resulting in a short sleep- before one tenth of that would have kept me awake all night long. 
Havingh lost all of my veins, I was injecting in my dick. Problem was that it had to be erect for the vein to popp upp, however being sexually aroused wasn`t that simple, holding a siringe in one hand and amusing myself with the ither. The beloved hasch just felt stupifying, emtying my last physical and mental resoursess. Pills and alkohol led to blackouts at the massive doses, while a normal social drink did not longer exist and even the psychedelics hardly gave anythyng more than a slightly vivider colours, which may have been my luck, since by then I was avoiding any deeper insight into my black hole life. Suicide seemed as the ultimate experience,the last experiment and the proper conclusion to the wasted life, no matter what lied beyond.
I allmost hoped that it was nothing. It`s just like falling asleep, not worrying about waking up again and having to face yet another day.
I became semi-concious for a while in the intensive care unit, hooked up to every imaginable machine there was. Faces were flashing by. My mother, followed by  my best friend, an angel-like doktor and the catoonish nurses. Later they told me that through the whole time I had the dumbest grin throughout my newly patched up face, not being able to pronounce any words. My head looked like an egg, turned on its side.
I was high on the opiate based painkillers, delivered by a 24/7  dropper, hallucinating the vividest dreams partially due to the brain damage, with a plot and all sences involved. I was watching a non existant large screen TV, across the room, being amused by a never produced new Simpsons episode. I was a worker somewhere in Asia, planting rice for a lollipopp as a form of payment from my fat Buddha like landlord. I was serving sharks caviar at Wills Smith`s second wedding party.
My best friend brought me a buquette of  flowers and huge poppy seed capsules, which were the part of the arrangement, the kind that the heroine was produced from. I remember trying to reach them, in a hope of chewing them up and getting even more opiates in to my system. My arm, hips, legs and the jaw were shuttered, still I made a futail attemts to reach the vase. Never enough. Never. Never.
NEVER…