Myths to Die By
"THERE is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. All the rest—whether or not the world has three dimensions, whether the mind has nine or twelve categories—comes afterwards. These are games; one must first answer." — Albert Camus (The Myth of Sisyphus)
"I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory." — Lin-Manuel Miranda (Hamilton Soundtrack)
Yesterday (November 3rd, 2026) was my father's birthday. It was also the first time I did not call him to wish him a happy birthday or send him money.
We haven't exactly been communicating. In July, during my episode, after our altercation, he cut me off and declared I was no longer a member of the family (I already wrote about this). I went into rehab, regained my mind, and when I returned my mother called to say my father was making life unbearable for her because of me. So I sent him this message:
"Good evening, dad.
Sorry I have not reached out sooner, and I am sorry for my outburst the last time we discussed. I have been under a lot of stress, which led to full blown psychosis. I have been psychotic for a while now (at least since June, and only got released from rehab in September).
I hope you are well.
My doctors have asked me to try to find peace and quiet. Please be kind to the wife of your youth.
Regards, Justin."
My mother told me that the message eased things up at home. Well, that was why I sent it, despite at first planning to ignore everything. I told my mother on that phone call that I had finally lost my mind and would like to be left alone, to finally have peace for the first time in my life.
My father never responded to my message, nor did he show any concern about my mental health. I want to say it did not hurt, but I cannot tell a lie.
As November approached, my mother discreetly messaged me, pleading that I wish my father a happy birthday or, again, he would make life unbearable for her. These messages, this time, I ignored. She called repeatedly on the day. I did not pick up. She finally sent a message asking me not to be mad at her.
Heh.
That night, I found myself calling suicide helplines. The first one kept me in the musical lobby, and the second had such a bad connection I hung up without a conversation. I spent the rest of the night googling "how to commit suicide painlessly". I found helpful suggestions, but I'm not sure it will be easy to acquire the required materials.
I was deeply fascinated to see that I wasn't distressed by my now active suicide planning. For contrast, in December I was telling a girl about feeling suicidal and she said "the thing about suicide is when you reach that point, it's difficult to walk back", and I had a panic attack. I started pacing the room trying to collect my ping-ponging thoughts, as I began to feel I was inching a little too close to the abyss. Last night, I felt nothing. In fact, I wasn't even intrigued by the promise suicide held. It was a cold, clinical research exercise.
Ending my life will solve so much of my problems. I would no longer wake up everyday struggling to work through this slog of a life, trying to find meaning in all this meaninglessness. I wouldn't have to bother with my job, which only guarantees rations to continue to endure this life.
I am no longer mad, or resentful, or guilty. I am just blank. I don't blame anyone for the way I feel (though my family could be less like children), as I understand that I have a rather deficient brain and my circumstances have further exacerbated my underlying woe.
I am now self-monitoring, asking Claude to examine my Threads for signs of obvious suicidality, as I don't want to spook anyone reading my posts. This is how low I've gotten: trusting a machine to look over my thoughts. It was Claude, by the way, who suggested the suicide helplines. I wasn't going to call them before, but then I realized it might be interesting to see what a conversation with a Nigerian suicide helpline might sound like. I may fully go through with it next time.