25 years ago I went into the woods with a .38 and wanted to shoot myself. I sat in my car for probably an hour trying to get the courage, putting the gun in my mouth and to my temple over and over again. I had the hammer pulled back the whole time.
Having never shot this gun before I had no idea how sensitive the trigger was. Then when I was moving the gun out of my mouth it went off and went through my thigh. After the longest probably one second of my life my jeans began to show some blood. Naturally I got scared. I went into fight or flight mode and attempted to start my car, which proved to be unreliable. My car wouldn't move. I took off my belt and wrapped it around my leg and began to walk the 2-3 miles back to an old farmhouse. Around those parts people don't lock their door. I went inside where as a 16 year old boy I called my mom. I didn't know where I was or how bad it was. I was just scared. I had tried to kill myself before ~5 years earlier by cutting my wrists but this was considerably more real.
My mom had the police trace the last call made to her work and they sent an ambulance to get me. They put my entire leg in this odd suction cast and took me to a little hospital in the middle of nowhere. I never met the people whose house I went into, but I believe my dad had to replace their couch and perhaps their carpets.
This shot didn't hit anything of any importance. 2 band-aids was the treatment I needed one for the entry wound, one for the exit, obviously we didn't have hollow points. The police asked me some questions and I went home in just a few hours.
Obviously everyone knew, I was living in a town of 175 people, but no one ever said a word. It was like it never happened. There were 2 friends besides my parents that met me in the hospital that had been crying. No one uttered a word of the events that transpired.
I guess that is a good example of how valuable my life is. 2 people were the only people not genetically forced to care about me.
There are few people in this world that know what happened that day, and even fewer that care. Those 2 friends are long gone from my life but still probably the same number of people, not required by nature to care, would be left altered if I were gone.
I'm not looking to have people care about me, although the reasons I dont to live today are very similar. Back then I just wanted someone to care, I think looking back now I wanted to matter to people. Now I just know that I have no purpose and know that life is nothing but struggle and pain. A constant downward spiral of health, time, and failure. the whole time trying to find a reason to exist while knowing there will never be one for most people.
Each day I look back at that day being my biggest failure so far. Failing that day has allowed each passing day go forward add up to more and more failures in all aspects of my life. I've failed as a husband, a father, in my finances, at my career and all my hobbies.
It is so hard knowing I'll never have a purpose and also knowing I'll probably never get the courage to come that close again. Always wishing I had succeeded at taking my own life.
Having never shot this gun before I had no idea how sensitive the trigger was. Then when I was moving the gun out of my mouth it went off and went through my thigh. After the longest probably one second of my life my jeans began to show some blood. Naturally I got scared. I went into fight or flight mode and attempted to start my car, which proved to be unreliable. My car wouldn't move. I took off my belt and wrapped it around my leg and began to walk the 2-3 miles back to an old farmhouse. Around those parts people don't lock their door. I went inside where as a 16 year old boy I called my mom. I didn't know where I was or how bad it was. I was just scared. I had tried to kill myself before ~5 years earlier by cutting my wrists but this was considerably more real.
My mom had the police trace the last call made to her work and they sent an ambulance to get me. They put my entire leg in this odd suction cast and took me to a little hospital in the middle of nowhere. I never met the people whose house I went into, but I believe my dad had to replace their couch and perhaps their carpets.
This shot didn't hit anything of any importance. 2 band-aids was the treatment I needed one for the entry wound, one for the exit, obviously we didn't have hollow points. The police asked me some questions and I went home in just a few hours.
Obviously everyone knew, I was living in a town of 175 people, but no one ever said a word. It was like it never happened. There were 2 friends besides my parents that met me in the hospital that had been crying. No one uttered a word of the events that transpired.
I guess that is a good example of how valuable my life is. 2 people were the only people not genetically forced to care about me.
There are few people in this world that know what happened that day, and even fewer that care. Those 2 friends are long gone from my life but still probably the same number of people, not required by nature to care, would be left altered if I were gone.
I'm not looking to have people care about me, although the reasons I dont to live today are very similar. Back then I just wanted someone to care, I think looking back now I wanted to matter to people. Now I just know that I have no purpose and know that life is nothing but struggle and pain. A constant downward spiral of health, time, and failure. the whole time trying to find a reason to exist while knowing there will never be one for most people.
Each day I look back at that day being my biggest failure so far. Failing that day has allowed each passing day go forward add up to more and more failures in all aspects of my life. I've failed as a husband, a father, in my finances, at my career and all my hobbies.
It is so hard knowing I'll never have a purpose and also knowing I'll probably never get the courage to come that close again. Always wishing I had succeeded at taking my own life.
