everyday with my son

Small stories of how it all went along

wounded.

What is death, really? Is it an end of happy things but is also an end to really tough life. Can we blame the person if that is his only escape? Pain can be tolerated but if it extend too long no amount of courage can stand against it. Sad as it maybe, death is the only relief, a final resting place to some and even those who elected to have it, actually in a normal situation, would rather not.

No one would have a life goal of being flat on the street after a 22 storey building jump, or with a bullet smashing the skull. We all dream of a happy life whether you are naturally happy or sad. Happiness is all we want but realistically it can never be always that way.

The other day Robin Williams committed suicide and in the news, social media there are once again news about depression. It is actually good as it might make more people aware of the difficulty of it and not make it the most misunderstood illness of all. It is a real fuck shit illness that you going to experience almost 24/7 and no amount of hot bath or soft music can melt it away. And even you have it treated, medication is lenghty and very costly, if suicide cannot kill you perhaps doctor’s bills will.

I keep on telling myself the end is near. Since 1987 have been shouting that quietly inside. There are some years that I had it really close like in 87, 91, 02, and the last few years. Many other countless days, and weeks that are just spent on thoughts of it and some serious planning on how to do it.. but never really close to ending it.

To end it all require guts. Real hard guts, as self-preservation is an instinct that is hard to overcome. You must really get to that end where to not doing it is harder and way more painful than the other suicide.

Hopefully, I will be gutsy too because I really cannot take anymore blows and my spirit is now too weak to endure.

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