The Perfect Suicide Note

I don’t believe in god
This is what I tell everyone
And even myself
Because I really never feel
That anyone is ever looking after me.
No one is pushing me to do better
Or maybe everyone is
But no one knows how I’m dying
Dying without a reason
Like a soldier who agreed to protect his land
But at what cost?
What are we getting out of this?
This chaos and trouble
These new found tragedies
Someone loving football lose their legs
Others were depressed and their dogs died
And then there are some who have everything
Everything except peace of mind.
We blame it on people for suiciding
And doing drugs is a sin
But how are we so sure its them
Doing that to themselves, and not us?
Why isn’t it ever considered that maybe
Just maybe
The problem is with us?
How far to the edge die we push a person
That they chose death over life
That they chose to rather destroy their body with poisons
Over finding out a solution.
What if there is no solution?
What if all we are is a negligible bunch of atoms
Dreaming way to big?
I mean, there is always a possibility.
Lately, even I feel suicidal
But something stops me
Not the fact that it isn’t the right thing to do
But there is a voice that says
“What will people think?”
I think this mentality is destructive
Its messing with your ability to think
You must be thinking how scared to the bones
A person must be
That they are afraid of death
Not because death is deadly
But because they are under a pressure
A pressure of being judged.
A pressure that is so unsustainable
That it doesn’t let you live
And doesn’t let you die
It hangs you to a cliff
With the strongest rope we call hope.
It’s a sin to be alive
But you are a sinner if you die.