Cain Was Onto Something

I've decided that I cannot spend any more time with my brother. I have had dinner at my parents' place twice this week with Sunshine Boy present. He is too much of a fucking downer. And that sounds heartless and cruel and a little flippant considering he did just try to kill himself last week. But fuck it. He's a selfish pussy and I don't want to be exposed to that right now.

What I had hoped was that I could be helpful in some way -- as a distraction, something amusing, maybe able to share some insight. But fuck all that. I perceive in him the inability for any intelligent thought or discussion on the subject. We therefore have no reason to be around one another.

My mood has been declining since November. I wrote a suicide note not long before my brother's little adventure. I had no intention of killing myself at the time -- right that evening, I mean -- but I think about it quite a bit and decided to see how adequate an explanation I could produce. It makes sense to do that sort of thing ahead of time. And I was able to write it so easily. It has been months and months since I have so effortlessly come up with prose of any kind. The ease with which I was able to write pleased me and lent itself to the feeling of validation and clarity that had been building.

You would think, then, that, given our shared mindset, we could offer some kind of support to one another. But no. I have concluded that we are motivated in two completely separate ways and I reckon this is true of most people who contemplate suicide.

My brother's actions are entirely driven by emotion, specifically, the strife surrounding his relationship with his girlfriend. This is a particular, negative situation on which his mood is based. He also drinks too much and is much more inclined to moroseness and violence when drunk. In his impulsive, uncontrolled state, he feels he has reasons to kill himself. He is justified.

My motivations are the complete opposite. I simply have no reason not to kill myself. It's not as though my life is awful and I see nothing but agony and despair in my future. Not at all. I just don't particularly care. I'm not interested in my future. If it happens one way, fine. If it happens another way, fine. I don't care. I'm mostly bored and slightly annoyed by the lack of an interesting point. Ending it all would just be something to do, as viable and practical an option as going back to school, moving to the arctic, or forcing myself on an inoffensive boy. And if you ever see those scenarios being enacted, you'll know I'm just ticking off a list before making my final decision.

I find the idea very soothing. Very calming. I think about it a lot for long periods of time because thinking about it is like getting into a hot bath. It's relaxing. It is freeing.

I don't know which logic is more justified -- more legitimate -- and I don't care. Exposure to my brother is just exposure to another situation beyond the influence of my unremarkable existence. Why fucking bother putting up with it?

He's going to do it at some point. I'm certain of it. Whoop-ti-doo.