Being a bipolar war veteran, I’ve had to battle with wanting to commit suicide for most of my adult life. Jeezus, relax! I’ve got a long life ahead of me and I take significant measures to fight it off. I have so many tools, mental, electronic, and medicinal that, at my worst, I’ll just stay home and watch television. Hell, I may even use it to write something. And yet, the thoughts are always there, always patient. Whether it be self-deprecation, a panicked intimidation toward what the world has in store, or simply the fascination of what may be beyond this mortal coil, I’ve lived through it. And I’ve heard the things people say about those that have taken that fatal step.
“Coward” is a word that often comes to mind. “Selfish” is another. Let me be clear. There is nothing more close-minded and egocentric than to say these knee-jerk, cliché declarations out loud. If the person that spat these words had anywhere near as much self control and fortitude toward a singular purpose as the suicide victim did in pulling the trigger, then they’d know to pay respect or shut their mouths. And if they could look past themselves for a split second, then they’d realize that the “selfish” victim may have given themselves to everyone around them, leaving them a shell of a person and prone to self-destruction. In fact, those cowardly, selfish, ignorant people were probably taking more than giving anyway. I don’t have the patience for these people.
It’s hard to when plenty of friends of mine have killed themselves. I’m not complaining (no point), I’m sure-as-shit not bragging, but “plenty” is a good way of putting it. Pills, heroin, but guns... so many guns. And you eventually get used to it in the same way a boxer might begin his career with a glass jaw, each punch helping turn a bundle of bird bones and meat into dead nerves and steel.
“He did what?! Well, shit... Guess I gotta get my dress pants laundered…”
I know it seems callous. That’s because it is. One giant callous. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, excellent! You’ve just won the human lottery!
But for all the rest of us, we have to cope. Cope with the loss of someone close to us. Cope with the fleeting thoughts of “Y’know, I wonder what ________ is doing on Tuesday oh fuck, that’s right, they died.” With the vacuum in the place where we used to make plans, hold hopes, and share ideas. With the second-takes you do to crowds of people, thinking maybe that was them, right there, half expecting they’d turn around and you’d both laugh, marveling at the rumor (or was it a dream?) that they had, in fact, died.
But it’s never them.
So I coped, knowing that I had wrapped my head around enough suicides to let muscle memory do its thing, allowing my subconscious to heal while my rational mind went about normal day-to-day topics. I’d dealt with the ins-and-outs of suicide from dozens of angles. Stopped learning anything from them. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
And then one of my friends set themselves on fire.
You can’t say that out loud without feeling like you’re lying. It doesn’t matter that it’s true. Your brain sees it as an objective occurrence, too profound to even begin putting emotions into. This happened to me recently (at least as far as the writing of this post is concerned), so it may be the shock, but I can’t wrap my head around it. Throwing yourself in traffic? Okay. Pills, heroin? Sure. A gun? Duh. But FIRE?! You can’t wrap your head around fire. Literally, just thinking about it makes me manic. But I think this is important, so off we go.
Out of respect for the family, I won’t go into details as to the motivation of the occurrence. Speaking from my experience, once you’ve come to the conclusion that this is what you’re going to do, your motivations tend to fall away toward more practical application anyway. You only look at what brought you to that point when you recognize where you are and what you’re doing. Then back to getting it done. Back to thinking about the future, and where those that care about you are going to be left. “Life will continue” is what pops into my head. Because it will, one way or another. One quick bang and those worries are over, right? And isn’t the end result the statement? I guess that was a little close-minded...
Another thing that strikes me is how little I knew about this person. A friend, not an acquaintance and not my closest, but we’ve shared some pints and stories, bitching about work in the service industry and adding insight where we could find it. I learned some, grew some, but nothing that really jumps out. But that’s pretty standard. We all have friends that we care for that might not have influenced the dogma we hold ourselves to.
That’s the thing, though. In being a part of their life, I hadn’t learned much, hadn’t beheld any definitive evidence to reinvigorate hope where it was once forgotten, at least not beyond the things people say on bar stools. It’s wild that I couldn’t possibly know the strength behind their actions when called upon. It took their death, but what I’ve learned has moved me to the quick of my soul.
You don’t need to be a scholar to be familiar with the brilliance of fire. Don’t have to be a priest to see its spirit or an artist to be inspired by it’s potential. It’s a force of nature, destined to shape us on a definitively elemental basis, so powerful that we need to recognize its majesty in order to secure our very existence.
What could possibly be stronger than this?
What could possibly be stronger than fire?
And my friend’s answer was simple: “Human will.”