A peace


I feel a peace in my head. My thoughts are quiet and slow. I don’t have the pain gritting up my thinking and making even the basics of everyday life unbearable. I can still feel the despair but it’s settled down and solid now. I can fairly easily just ignore it. Most of all, I am not fighting anymore. I am not agonising over my decision. It’s a terrible, selfish decision but it’s for the best. I am done. Is the combination of quiet thoughts, quiet feelings and no pain the definition of peace? I have no idea (and the dictionary didn’t help).

Reflections of the sky on Loch Uisg on the Isle of Mull, Scotland by Jill Dimond on Unsplash.

I’ve had this peace before. It has happened in the times between finalising my decision to try my best to die and actually trying to do it. It’s not even that I’m reluctantly resigned. I’m walking towards it quite calmly and purposefully (well, as purposefully as a currently mad person can do). I say that now, of course. I’ll see what it’s like when it’s all right in front of me in the hotel room. There’ll be doubt and probably panic then. But for now, it’s so nice. Such relief. I understand why there is a cliché of “sweet relief”. It is as delicate and delicious as the sweetest treat. Fuck me, I’m about to go all #blessed.

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