About the time Lilith appeared, I hit the lowest point in my life, and I actually, physically, contemplated suicide. Not the death of a vessel at one's own hand suicide, but finding someone to take my forces apart suicide. I had physically hoped down deep inside that she was going to take me apart after catching me with a bunch of angels. Simply because, after the day I had experienced, I was doubting if I could take any more. I had reached my limit of shocks and pain and watching my life turn to mulch before my eyes. I was pretty well convinced that my life was basically over, so she could simply finish the job and use my Forces to make a newer, better, and improved Lilim, without the angst. Someone who wouldn't feel so damn guilty about invoking Geasa or manipulating humans or hurting people. Someone who would do it right, and would not flinch.
Later I realized I could take more, and there were ways the day could have gotten worse. It was very possible that these things I considered in my head had, in fact, taken place, but I did not have any relevant knowledge either way. It was probably bett er that way. I mean, what you don't know can't hurt you, right? Am I right?
This was not, in fact, the first time that the thought of suicide had crossed my mind. Far from it. The last time was just a month or so ago. I was sitting in a first class seat on a commuter plane between Chicago and New York, next to the window. My hand and cheek were pressed against the cold plexiglass, and I was watching the landscape far down below. I was depressed again. I was sitting there thinking about what it would feel like if the plane decided to suddenly nosedive into the ground, with everyone on board clutching to their seats screaming through the last few terrifying seconds on their lives, their eyes bugging out of their heads and the cabin smelling of urine from their terror. There would be a jolt as the plane hit the ground, and a blaze of amazing pain as the explosion from the half filled gas tanks ripped through my body, and then blessed silence. Until, of course, I woke up next to my Heart and was commended for experiencing the irony of dying in a 'blaze of glory'. Haha. No rest for the wicked. Literally.
Before then I had another period in recent memory. I had been sitting in my apartment with my sister, Malik, watching some aimless, pointless show or another on the television when I was supposed to be revising scripts. I remember looking up at her, and asking her what it would feel like if I decided to go into the bathroom and start slashing at my arms with a razor blade in sort of a methodical manner.
She answered, "Oh, and rip up your lovely vessel?"
So I slouched in my chair with my beer and my carton of left over reheated Chinese food, and thought about this.
Unlike humans, we don't have the free will to just end it. If we did, Hell would quickly depopulate. Instead, we're cursed to go on and on and on and just endure and nod our heads and smile and enjoy it. It's like sado-masochism. At first, when they tie you down and apply the whip to your back, you scream and yell and plead for mercy. Then when you realize that you are becoming sexually aroused, you becoming excited, and you wait for that blessed building moment of release when you know you will actually get something out of all this beating and submitting and crying and pain. Over and over again, the long hateful lows, the one dazzling momentary high. You become addicted to that one amazing moment of gasping orgasm. And that's demons in a nutshall for ya, nothing but a bunch of beings hoping they finally get to cum.
On the other hand, human suicide is a sin, and committing a final sin of the magnitude of suicide would quickly land the human in Hell himself. So either way, trying to escape from the pain of existence because one is buckling is a cosmic joke. You don' t actually get to escape. You only get to go where it's much worse, and dwell there in eternal pain while thinking about how stupid you were to think your own life on the corporeal pain was so horrible. How dare you throw away your few moments of life? And you were told it was going to be better through your trustworthy religion! Everything you believed was a lie! What a joke. What irony. What humor! Can I put this in my standup routine?
I was thinking, if we didn't stand back and look at the horrors that God himself has put us, the Hellborn, into through the original sin of being born, and laugh, then we would just sink into apathy and self-loathing and hate so deep we might just fade out of the universe. And that's no way to be. Even then, we only get _Oblivion_. We don't get the higher heavens or an eternity of bliss. We get nothing at all. What a jip.
I explained this to Malik, in nice easy terms she could understand. I finished it off, with, "You know, times like this I really understand, Malik. I really _get_ what the Boss is all about."
She sat back away from me, frowning, and finally said, "Daimon, you're scaring me." And I had, and she left me, alone, to contemplate what it felt like to drag razor blade across my white skin. Can't say I didn't try it for a bit, but I didn't actually do anything to myself of lasting permanency.
But I don't know. When it was all said and done, and the official lowest point in my life had passed, I didn't go ahead and kill myself. This time I wasn't left alone to dwell on it too much, which was probably a good thing. No cutting, no falling out of the sky, no waking up in Trauma feeling robbed. Just some warm reassurance and my own weaknesses being dragged out into the open for all to see. But I don't know, maybe that's for the better. Or for the worse. I'm no longer in much of a position to tell, to be honest. Time will tell, though, I suppose.
---