So last week I tried to kill myself. Seriously. I took about a dozen temazepam and four beers and hoped for the worst. The human body, or at least my human body, is incredibly difficult to defeat. And clearly it has nothing to do with the so called will to live. Because I possess exactly zero of that.
I just wound up having the lost weekend. It was kinda cool. I awoke from my stupor for a brief period in the morning to consume a cheese sandwich and some coffee. The coffee enhanced the effects of the pills and I was gone again. All of Friday was lost. Most of Saturday too. I got out of fixing my mother's computer. That was a perk. I saved some beer as I was dead to the world for over a full 24 hours. Why I did not stay dead to the world I don't really understand. I certainly gave it my best effort. I kept my eyes closed and gave into the drugs and yet still eventually I awoke. Not because I wanted to. Not because someone intervened. And not because there's a God that cares. Because even if there were a God, which there isn't, he certainly wouldn't save an atheist. As we are evil incarnate and not to be saved, but rather to be eliminated. If there were a God, He certainly would've taken this opportunity to punish someone as godless as myself and send me straight to the imaginary flames of hell. Where I would suffer for all of eternity for my suicide.
But God isn't real. And drugs aren't as powerful as advertised. And I just woke up a few days later a little worse for the wear and more miserable than ever that I was still trapped in this miserable life.
Hey... dickhead aliens who created life on Earth.... please come and annihilate us already. What are you waiting for? We're broken. Beyond repair.