Almost Appropriate
{REC ON}
Tell me ninety-nine reasons to justify a suicide. Illustrate with the power of logic an explanation which appropriates to man the right to take his own life. And pray tell, if men, as such bestowed with free will, how is it that an act requiring one’s volition to execute is deemed preposterous and even forbidden?
I do not suffer from Melancholia nor am I perverse; for many, a variation of these comprise their ninety-nine reasons to vindicate suicide, but I’m afraid these are weak explications.
What about the hundredth reason? Is it any different nor any stronger? We’ll get down to it in a moment.
Let us first consider young Werther.
Werther, if memory serves me right, was what we might consider a jilted lover. He longed for a woman beyond his reach and so took his own life. Howbeit, that wasn’t his only reason. He also made mention that he wanted to, and I quote “come home to God”. Werther was a man of faith. Suicide was merely the means to the end he wanted which was to be reunited in Paradise with his Creator. I too, am like Werther.
I believe in God and in Christ who shed His blood for my salvation but I do not believe in suicide as a sin—
{REC OFF}
The camera stopped recording. I played it back and watched myself. A few seconds into the video, I had to pause it. I hate the sound of my own voice. It was like a machine droning— except that the machine made slow farting noises, the kind that sleazy B-list comedians let out in Will Ferrel movies. The voice sounded like a cow mooing and I hated the fact that it came from me.
I deleted the footage then threw the camera to the wall. It fell with a slight thud. Looking around, the room was a mess so I decided to clean it before—
Before I do it.
I don’t need a camera to record what I’m about to say. The burden of carrying this weight on my shoulders has gone on for too long and I want out of it.
First let me start off by saying: I am going to hell.
This realization hit me when I was about eighteen years old. I had an argument with my father concerning my future plans; he had it laid out before me, after graduation I was to attend Med School and become a physician just like him. Needless to say, I disobeyed. Disobeying everything seemed to be my forte, I’m ashamed to admit. I have been breaking laws (albeit in petty fashion) since I was young. Wasn’t I the one who disobeyed that voice in my head commanding me to not push that little girl from the swing many years ago in first grade? She ended up with two bruised knee caps and it was the guidance office for me. I tried to make up for it several years after by asking her to the prom only to ditch her during the dance for another, prettier girl.
A flood of memories came over me, one by one, sin by sin. I was like Mephistopheles, but in my case, I had good intentions and was doomed to forever commit evil. My mind is racked with voices arguing back and forth, commenting on all my activities, telling me what to do. Paranoia has been a staple for me the last couple of years. Looking over my shoulder, eyes are always watching me and they can see that I am going to sin. They follow me everywhere, even in my head. Whenever I aim to do good, the voices in my head won’t stop chattering until I do the exact opposite of what I set out to do!
Although, these may seem trivial to some of you, but if you add one after another, the result is one ginormous boulder of a sin. And don’t argue with me that it’s the intention that counts, not the act.
For, really, was it not said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions?
My hard-headedness gets the best of me. I could never count the times I made my mother cry, poor thing! I refused to go by society’s standards and found myself apprehended by authorities not once but for several. Bad to the bone and going to hell.
I decided over a year ago to end my life. Knowing of my after-life destination, I resolved to commit suicide by shooting myself. Perhaps more than to silence the voices in my head, but rather to consummate the Divine Will of my Creator. The plan was, to record a video of myself deciphering my reasons, then afterwards point a gun to my head and have everything caught on camera.
That was over a year ago today.
Right now, I rescinded my initial plan of recording on camera (once again, evincing my knack for disobedience!) and settled to just clean the room first. Once everything is in place, I took out the gun from the drawer.
As I’ve said previously, I believe in God and in Christ who shed His blood for my salvation, but I do not believe in suicide as sin. Freewill is given to me that I may obey the Lord out of the autonomy of my heart and I know the Lord willed for this day to come.
I am going to hell. Save your prayers for the worthy who need it. The Lord foresaw that I am to be nothing but grime on the surface of his covenant, the dross of all creation, a scum of the earth. Through death, I shall purify the sins of those condemned to hell like I am that they may not suffer the same fate.
It is already night and the wind is howling outside. The curtains swing back and forth excitedly, as if aware of what I’m about to do. I pointed the gun to my chest. I determined not to shoot it directly at my head for that would be too messy. See, even in the last moment, I am disobedient. Such is my kismet.
So it is written, so it shall be done.
[INSPECTOR’S P.O.V.]
He had to admit, despite the blotch of blood on the chest, everything was in order. The desk was neat, the books aligned perfectly on a nearby shelf and there was no sign of any external struggle. He bent down on his knees to get a closer look of the face, it wasn't protocol but he was rather curious; the dead man’s face was serene as a sleeping toddler. Furthermore, he swears by the good Book that there was a smile on the lips-or at least a hint of it, as if what he did to himself was the most natural thing in the world. He couldn't look away; he's had his share of cases like this but this was the only one where he felt like suicide was the right thing to happen. A gust of wind entered from an open window and he shuddered. He wasn't supposed to be thinking this way— after all, he's been taught all his life that suicide is a sin: an act that will send your soul straight to the pits of hell. However in this case, the young man's room, his outfit, his face— he’ll be damned if it hadn’t looked almost appropriate.
[/END INSPECTOR’S P.O.V.]
