From: zaphodb@brahms.udel.edu (Angela Marie Watson)
Subject: Dying is easy...
Organization: The Eternal Order of Chaos 
Date: Mon, 4 Jan 1993 07:17:17 GMT

	"Dying is easy it's living that scares me to death"
					-- Annie Lennox "Cold" on _Diva_



	Death always seemed like the ultimate reward to me...

	I cannot remember a time in my life that I didn't wish for death
on at least a semi-regular basis (serious, heartfelt yearning for my
annillation).  Would've made a dandy Xmas gift many a year... ah well, there
is always tomorrow...

	Until I was moved away from my 'family' at 18, I always stayed
to save someone else some pain... always sacrificing myself as a protector
with no thanks mearly because I knew I was going bear most the abuse anyway
(if I was going to get punished no matter what, I might as well have
earned it).  Once 'on my own' I kept going for a variety of reasons... none
particularly for my own benifit.  

	Sunday afternoon I helped a female my age carry a few bags from
the Commons (where check-in was) to her room.  She constantly thanked me
although it wasn't a 100 yds and she insisted on taking the heaviest
bags... this really annoyed me.  She obviously needed help (otherwise
she would have had to make 2 trips) and I was capable of helping her...
it's only natural for me to (seriously) offer to help.  Maybe I'm just
a workhorse at heart... but if there is something that needs doing and I'm
not doing anything else, I feel it is my duty to at least try to assist.
Of course being generous (with my time, energy, money, etc.) pleases me and
keeps a dagger from my heart for that much longer...

	I don't think it has ever been a question of 'if' with me... just
a matter of 'when' (and various little details).  I might make it to
50 or even 75, but, barring any outside intervention, I will chose my own
time for my reward for all this pain.  After waiting this long, I wouldn't
want it to be a spur-of-the-moment event... but if my sleeping patterns
don't change soon...

	Incredibly, (I still have trouble believing it), I may actually
venture into the Univ. counseling center soon... I can't bring myself
to go where I should go (since I'll not dare breath a word about being
depressed or worse) so I'll probably go in and have them run lots of tests
on me (and figure it out for themselves).  I've been tossing the idea 
around for a few years now (to go in for the non-depression aspects of my
life)... after reading the book _Nobody_Nowhere_ the other night I'm
convinced I should at least go in and see about some testing... [FYI, the
book is written by an autistic woman about her autism -- I spent half
my time reading book thinking "I did/do that... and that..." -- and here
I thought everyone thought/thinks that way...]  Getting a little note
from the Psych people confirming I was having serious problems last
sem. might help convince my advisor that I wasn't blowing off his class.
(I got a B+ in my African Hist class... I made Dean's list fall sem. but
I'm completely shamed by my academic preformance.)  

	My, it is after 2 am and I'm sure everyone's tired of my
grumbling and slow descent into non-existance... D  not to worry... 
things speed up at the end of a steep dive... eventually the ground will
get here...

		Psycho Kitten
		(wishing for the opportunity to engage in a favorite hobby --
		 being an absent-minded Stepford wife...)

	 
 
	

Newsgroups: alt.suicide.holiday