Friday 17 June 2011

A fitting end?

I spend a lot of time thinking about dying. Contemplating the different methods of suicide.

My greatest fear is getting it wrong; thinking I've achieved it, then waking up days later in the hospital, thanks to my own ineptitude, or some loving friend's misplaced desire to help.

My ideal scenario would be this: Travel to South America so that I can visit Tierra del Fuego and look out at the end of the world. Go across the water and stand on Antarctica. Then walk away and let the cold claim me.

It probably wouldn't take all that long, but the problem would be getting those around me, including those in officialdom, to let me go. And of course the 20-hour flight to the tip of South America, and the notoriously bumpy plane ride over that final stretch of water. It would take so much morphine to get me through it, that I wouldn't even know where I was. And I certainly wouldn't be capable of walking off any where by myself.

Maybe the compromise would be cruise around that part of the world, and a midnight jump off the back of the boat. The cold would kick in even quicker than on land. And those cruiseliners are a pig to turn around - hopefully by the time it got back to me, it would be too late.

If I'm honest, this has been my preferred option for a while now, basically because it seems vaguely do-able, whereas the other way simply doesn't.

But I worry I'd bottle it at the last minute. And I'd want at least some of the people I love around me during the first part of the trip. How could I ever ask them to do that, knowing what was coming next? And how to make absolutely certain they were never ever blamed for my actions?

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