The unknowing of where one's N is located is like a slow torture. Clearly there is already some form of torture in one's existence to have ordered N in the first place, but the waiting process for it to arrive? BRUTAL.
There's the monetary aspect...was I just scammed?! I can't even afford this and I don't even know this "A" person!
There's the legal aspect...are the police going to be at my door any minute?! (sidenote: the absurd reality of a person getting arrested for wanting to peacefully end their life is, in a sense,
exactly why I'm suicidal.)
There's the long wait with no immediate reply, no updated tracking, the wanting to be at the door every minute in case it arrives, not wanting anyone to take it, hoping it's packaged fine, worried about the timing of arrival due to friends/relatives/roommates/plans in the near-future...
I remember it felt like I was going insane, the only thing on my mind was the N. And it makes sense! It's the secret we've found for a peaceful way of ending pain (and how gross that being in control of our suffering--being in control of our bodies--must be treated as a secret.) It's just nonsensical we have to go to such great lengths with such intense discretion when the whole point is to NOT drag anyone else into it; to NOT have to expose others to a messy situation; to make it as "nice" as it can be for me and for those around me.
It's a strange feeling to realize how hard it is to be in control of our lives these days. A non-suicidal person may find a suicidal person to be irrational in their desire to suicide, but wouldn't they rather the person experience a humane death? I'm sorry to ramble, but this was all intensely on my mind during the weeks waiting for my N to arrive. It just makes me sick that we humans go through this, but if Misty or Buddy are in significant pain, let's put them down BECAUSE WE LOVE THEM AND IT'S THE RIGHT THING TO DO.