My eyes are open.

by maddrunkgenius

Suicide is often a major theme in fiction, and a widespread hobby among persons tired of having birthdays. This is common knowledge.

But what exactly is so awesome about suicide? Honestly, we all know it is. Not all forms of suicide are created equal, let’s get that out of the way right now. Swallowing a bunch of pills or cutting yourself, come on. That’s lame. It’s extremely anticlimactic and if you’re a man, you have no excuse. Women can do better, too, don’t get me wrong, but a woman falling asleep or bleeding out is this kind of tranquil scene we come to expect. But it’s still way lame.

When I say “suicide is awesome”, I of course mean throwing yourself off something very tall, or ideally, gunshot wound to the face. Because that’s when you know you’re a badass: closed casket. If there’s something left of you worth displaying, you obviously fucked up somewhere.

See, you have to express how pissed off you are at the world in your death. If it’s just a lethargic, “Oh, I’m filling up the bathtub with my blood,” then no one is going to care. Even if you put it on a webcam, that would be the most boring thing ever. But filming a gunshot wound to the face? Tell me with a straight face that wouldn’t be all over the internet in a day. You can’t. Know why? Because your face is blown off and you’re the most famous person in the world for a couple of weeks.

Bad. Ass.

I mean, I guess you could always try getting through whatever problems are causing you angst and try to make your life better and not hurt your loved ones, but FUCK THAT. Dude, your girlfriend broke up with you. Someone stole your iPod, it’s time be an hero.

Death to impress.