Friday, February 26, 2016


If I were to commit suicide, and I can’t stress enough to you that I have no plans to commit suicide, if I were planning to actually commit suicide this would not in any way be a funny story, and I absolutely do understand that and want to take this moment to assure you, you will not hear about my suicide next week and think “Oh! I was just reading a piece on his blog about a suicide, and I laughed and laughed and laughed, oh my, but I’m a monster!” this will not happen and you do not have to worry about it, because I absolutely do promise not to commit suicide upon this night.

Although I don’t promise never to commit suicide. Options are always on the table after all, and while things are going okay with me right now I do have a history of both depression and crippling panic attacks that, while currently relatively mild and manageable, have been MUCH worse in my past and could for all I know overwhelm me in the future. There’s every chance that, when the end of my life comes, my cause of death does wind up being myself. It’s a possibility I’ve considered, and that I’m aware of, and that in some weird, small way, I’ve even managed to make my peace with.

But not today. And when it comes to suicidal depression, “Not today” really is the most empowering thing a person can say to himself, from a certain point of view.

So no, I have no plans to kill myself.

That said; IF I were to commit suicide, I do have a plan as to how I’d do it.

I’d get some cash together, probably via credit cards that I would never have to pay back, and count on the fact that the internet exists and that, in all likelihood, it wouldn’t be too hard to find a contract killer.

I’m pretty smart, after all, how hard could a contract killer be to find?

Once I found my killer, I’d stipulate the manner of my death in very specific language, and make it clear that unless my cause of death was to my liking my murderer would not get paid.

Because, in addition to a profound self-loathing, my character includes an equally profound narcissism, and I have an unhealthy need to be the center of attention at all times, as evidenced by the fact that here I am, discussing my own possible suicide in spite of the fact that I have no plans to commit such an act against myself any time soon.

So yes, I’d want my death to have maximum impact and, as I’d be paying a man to cause my death, I fortunately would have the opportunity to assure it was maximally impactful.

This is why if I were to commit suicide the method I would choose would be “Via Sniper.”

I’d be sure I didn’t know WHEN it was coming, only that it was, and how. This would cause me to seem suddenly unexplainably nervous and distracted whilst dealing with the people around me, perhaps leading them to wonder what I had going on that I wasn’t talking about.

If asked, I’d be evasive, claiming it was nothing, but not convincingly enough that anyone would believe me, just enough so that they’d let the matter drop, hoping I might bring it up on my own time at some future date.

Not knowing that no such future date, for me, would exist.

And when the time finally came, and my own sniper’s bullet ripped through my body, sharply, suddenly, killing me before I even hit the ground, before I was even aware of the people surrounding me, suddenly screaming in terror and scampering for cover, when the moment came I’d die knowing that, at the very least, I’d given the people in my world one last, surreal story to tell to one another at my wake.

“What the fuck was Munroe involved in, that they’d send a sniper after him?” My friends would ask, but they’d never know the answer because, of course, there wouldn’t be one. I wouldn’t be involved in much of anything, other than the hiring of a sniper off the internet.

And in that way my death would provide a little bit of mystery and magic to the world…

Now: Some of you might wonder if I would truly want my last act in this world to be a horrific act of violence against myself, for no reason other than to fuck with my friends one last time before I shuffled off this mortal coil.

And to those of you I say: Have you MET me?

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