Humor in suicide

When you’re suicidal, it spills out.  I told Justin about it because I thought it would help him understand why I can’t have friends, but it didn’t faze him.  It might be the whole idea of three years–it’s such a long time in a way.  I don’t know why it didn’t seem to bother him.  If I mention my suicide to him, he just shakes his head and we move onto the next topic.  

This week, though, I was overcome with negativity and a little too verbal about my suicidal ideation.  We’re weary anyway because of the musical we’re in–he conducts, I’m in the band.  It’s hard to work all day and then practice or perform for hours each night.   Then he had a stressful event occur with a parent, a typical teacher/parent interaction in a way, but draining.  I realized that even though he still seems to like me and doesn’t mind if I mention suicide, it isn’t fair to him.

Yesterday, I told him, “I won’t mention suicide again because it isn’t fair to you, and if I slip up you can fine me or something.”

“Fine you?” he said.  “What would I fine you?”

“I don’t know.  Something…”

“I know,” he said.  “Each time you mention it, you have to stay alive another year.”

That was pretty funny.

In a far less funny comment, the school secretary asked me if I was ready to drink the Jim Jones Kool-aid because of the stress of year’s end.  I replied that cyanide would be a particularly horrible way to die, and we moved on to child poisoning from there.   Well, yes, I could have said.  I *am* suicidal.  I think about it every day.  I plan to stay alive for three more years, but after that, I’m outta here, and at this moment, I’m wondering if I’ll make it for three more years.   But she wouldn’t really want to know.  She, of course, doesn’t know about my plans so she didn’t know that she was speaking to a future suicide, but it struck me as particularly humorless.

On the other hand, every time I think of Justin’s idea of a fine, I smile.


~ by judeincolorado on May 9, 2009.

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