Hot Chocolate, a Dog Blanket and Some Yarn

In this episode, I talk about how finding something to look forward to after a long day can be all you need to turn dread into something hopeful. Who knows, maybe if you can find some excitement in the day, you might even be happy for a little while.

I am not a doctor, so do not treat this as therapy or medical advice. I just do this podcast with the hopes that it can help some people.

If you’re interested in other content by me, follow me on:

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YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpiT4JjAzziR-EODaBDPaJg

How to End Depression

Do you want the bad news or the good news first? Well, the bad news is that I really don’t see an end to depression. The good news is that I don’t think that’s necessarily bad news. Discovering purpose and figuring out what makes you feel the way that you do could help you combat it, and ultimately fend off all of those pesky suicidal thoughts that you’ve been dealing with.

I am not a doctor, so do not treat this as therapy or medical advice. I just do this podcast with the hopes that it can help some people.

If you’re interested in other content by me, follow me on:

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YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpiT4JjAzziR-EODaBDPaJg

Sleeping with Wolves

Sleep is one of the few constants that can help you out when you’re struggling with suicidal thoughts. It will give you energy to handle the world, make you less irritable, and even help you from getting sick. In this episode, I talk about how I’ve been struggling to get sleep and the ways that I’ve been trying to make up for it.

I am not a doctor, so do not treat this as therapy or medical advice. I just do this podcast with the hopes that it can help some people.

If you’re interested in other content by me, follow me on:

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The Anniversary of a Lifetime

After years of me putting up emotional barriers, subconsciously sabotaging our friendship and generally being terrible, I can officially say that my girlfriend Alex and I have just celebrated out two year anniversary! In this episode, I talk about how Alex and I have gotten to where we are, and how unsexy a story the beginning really was.

I am not a doctor, so do not treat this as therapy or medical advice. I just do this podcast with the hopes that it can help some people.

If you’re interested in other content by me, follow me on:

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Whale Penises and Taking it Easy

The title says it all. What more do you want from me? Oh… you want a proper description. Fine. This week I talk about a feeling of existential dread and numbness that’s been overtaking my life. It’s not all depressing as there is whale penis talk, but it isn’t the most upbeat episode. I just talk about pushing through the hard times and remaining optimistic for whatever’s coming next.

I am not a doctor, so do not treat this as therapy or medical advice. I just do this podcast with the hopes that it can help some people.

If you’re interested in other content by me, follow me on:

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YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpiT4JjAzziR-EODaBDPaJg

Suicide Watch

I wrote this a few weeks ago. It’s a near and dear story for me for personal reasons and I think it appropriately conveys the confusing feelings that each party involved would feel.

Scott McKinney

Jonathan’s phone dinged once. He picked it up to see a text from someone that he hadn’t talked to since his senior year of high school. It said, “do u care if I call you?”

            “Sure. But why?” Jonathon asked, pushing himself to his feet. He was sitting next to his mother watching reruns of Family Feud. He walked to the front porch and sat down on the rough fabric of the outdoor loveseat. Kicking his legs up on the pillars that made up the waist high fence surrounding the porch he awaited the call, pondering what it could be.

            Nicolas responded, “I’ll call you in a minute or two,” then he sent another text that said, “it’s bad news.”

            Jon scrolled through his newsfeed while he waited, trying to figure out what Nicolas wanted to talk to him about, but didn’t want to scare himself by thinking of the possibilities, so he tried not to let his thoughts wander. What he knew for sure was that it had nothing to do with Nicolas’ college education since he had dropped out after one semester and it wouldn’t have to do with Jon’s brother or parents because otherwise, he would have heard it from someone else. He continued to scroll through his newsfeed and tried to contain the anxiety that was tickling his stomach and brain, making his hairs stand tall and his mouth dry.

            “R u ready?” Nicolas sent.

            “Yeah,” Jon replied.

            The second that Jon sent the text, Nicolas was already calling him. Jon held it in his hand and felt the vibrations as he contemplated not answering at all. He took a deep breath and picked up, staying as strong as he could in the uncertain circumstance that he was handed.

            “Hey, what’s up?” Jon said.

            “Sorry about calling so late. I just thought you should know as soon as I found out.”

            “Don’t beat around the bush. What’s up?”

            “Did you know CJ Wilkinson?” he asked after a drawn-out pause.

            “Yeah. I knew him a little bit. My brother knows him better than I did, but I know him.”

            Jon’s throat constricted and he felt his heart jump. Not only did his brother, Devin, know CJ, but they were best friends. They met years ago when they were in second or third grade and they actually hated each other at first, then they got into a pretty big argument that ended in some punches, but soon after they developed a mutual respect for each other, that eventually blossomed into the relationship that they have now. Knowing that the news was bad and about CJ gave Jon tunnel vision as he braced for it.

            “What about him?” Jon asked, since Nicolas hadn’t said anything for a few seconds.

            “He’s dead,” Nicolas said.

            “What do you mean?”

            “He’s dead.”

            “What happened!” Jon yelled, then hushed his voice so his mom didn’t hear him from inside.

            “I don’t think anyone knows for sure yet, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that it was suicide.”

            “Are you serious?” Jon said in a whisper. “How did you find out?”

            “I don’t feel comfortable saying. The news isn’t out yet, but I heard from someone else and felt like you had the right to know.”

            Jon stayed silent and looked up at the stars that shined with the same brilliance that they had every night of his life, but they were mocking him tonight. Nicolas was breathing heavily on the other end of the call, sniffling every few seconds.

            “How are you holding up?” Jon asked.

            “I’m fine I guess,” he said, then sniffled. “I didn’t know him too well either but I was really close to his family. He was a good guy. He didn’t deserve to go so young.”

            “I know he didn’t. Thanks for letting me know. I know it wasn’t easy telling me about this.”

            “I’ll be okay. I just feel bad for his family. I’m going to pray for them after we get off the phone.”

            Usually Jon would make a sarcastic remark about how religion wouldn’t help, but he didn’t have the heart. He just wanted Nicolas to feel better and hoped that the prayers really did work. He really hoped that there was something out there that would make CJ’s family feel better.

            “Thanks for letting me know,” Jon told Nicolas. “I’m gonna let you go. I need to make another call.”

            “Okay. Sorry that I only called to give bad news. I wish it could have been for something a bit happier.”

            “It’s okay. I’m glad I know.”

            “But don’t tell anyone that I’m the one that told you. I don’t know if the Wilkinson’s are ready to make the news public.”

            “I won’t. Have as good a night as you can. Give them my prayers.”

            “You too.”

            Nicolas sniffled one last time and hung up the phone. Jon leaned back, resting in the chair. After a few minutes, he stood up and walked back inside, sitting next to his mom on the couch who was still watching reruns of Family Feud.

            “What was that about?” his mom asked.

            Jon said, “It was Nicolas.”

            “You haven’t talked to him in a while, have you?”

            “No. It’s been a while.”

            “What did he want? You look as white as a ghost.”

            “CJ’s dead.”

            “What!” his mom yelled, muting the TV. “What happened?

            “No one knows for sure yet, but Nicolas said it may have been suicide.”

            “Suicide, really? He always seemed so happy when he came around.”

            “I thought so too,” Jon said. “I guess he was good at covering it up.”

            “Your brother is going to be devastated.”

            “I know. I’m thinking about calling him.”

            “Do you want me to do it?”

            Jon ignored his mom and sent Devin a text saying, “Hey, can I call you for a minute?”

            “Do you want me to do it?” Jon’s mom repeated.

            “No, I can do it.”

            Jon walked back to the porch and sat on the rough fabric of the outdoor loveseat and waited for Devin to respond. Ten minutes later, he responded saying he stepped away but didn’t have long. Jon dialed his number and listened to it ring once, then heard Devin pick up and say, “hello?”

            “Hey man,” Jon said. “I have some bad news for you. Are you at a place that you can take it?”

            “Yeah,” he laughed as his girlfriend mumbled something that Jon couldn’t hear clearly. “I mean, how bad can it be?”

            “Are you sure you’re in a good place to talk?”

            “I’m fine. Stop delaying whatever it is that you need to tell me. Out with it.”

            “Okay. CJ’s dead. I heard that it may have been suicide.” The noise died on the other end of the phone as Devin said something and stepped away from his girlfriend. “I’m sorry. I know this must be really hard for you.”

            There was nothing but silence for a minute before I heard Devin clear his throat and take a breath, then he fell silent again. Jon didn’t know what to say, so he waited, keeping his head clear so as to not assume anything about what Devin was feeling or thinking.

As time progressed, thoughts of how Jon had never experienced this form of grief flooded his head, and maybe that was why he was so comfortable being the one to tell him the bad news. Jon thought to his kindergarten friend who passed of heart complications and to a tragedy that affected his school when he was a freshman and three seniors drove their car into a lake, unable to escape before tragedy befell them. He was too young to understand the pain of loss in kindergarten and was too self-obsessed to understand the loss of the three boys in high school, since he had never met them.

Time passed and the stars continued to mock Jon, who was starting to feel his thoughts bombard his brain. “Should I have been the one to tell him?” he wondered. “Should I have told him in person? Would it have been better for me to let him find out through the grapevine when the family was more ready to make the announcement? Was I acting selfishly by believing he’d handle it better coming from me?” His thoughts spiraled, but the last one to enter his head was, “Is Devin okay?”

“It’s fine. Thanks for letting me know.” Devin hung up without saying another word and Jon was left alone on the porch with only his thoughts and the mocking stars to keep him company. He stood up and leaned against the railing on his porch. He breathed in as deeply as he could and held it in, then when his lungs were going to burst, he let it out.

            The door opened behind him. Jon’s mom stood there, staring at her shrunken son with watery eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

            Jon let out another breath as his lungs were going to cave in and said, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

            “Did you tell Devin?”

            “Yeah.”

            “How did he handle it?”

            “Fine.”

            “Do you want some time alone?”

            “No, I’m okay. I’ll be in in a minute.”

            “Okay.”

She closed the door slowly and quietly as Jon took one last deep breath. He let the air out and walked inside, sitting down next to his mom and watched reruns of Family Feud.

Current Events: Sometimes Knowing Less is More

Staying up to date on what’s happening in the world is important, but so is your own mental health. This week, I talk about how sometimes being up to date can be put on the back burner for a little bit if you need to focus on yourself.

I am not a doctor, so do not treat this as therapy or medical advice. I just do this podcast with the hopes that it can help some people.

Scott McCultured

If you’re interested in other content by me, follow me on:

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Prescription Drugs and Living With Anxiety feat. Danny

This week, I had my friend Danny on and we talked about his use with Lexapro and anti-depressants and how they have affected him. We also dive into some conversations about the world and how mental illness has helped to shape our views of life and death.

I am not a doctor, so do not treat this as therapy or medical advice. I just do this podcast with the hopes that it can help some people.

If you’re interested in other content by me, follow me on:

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The American Dream

A steady job, kids and happiness, that’s what everyone wants when the become an adult. As a kid, they watch their parents struggle through the daily grind, unaware of the difficulties that they faced, knowing that when they got older, they’d have the privilege of facing the same struggles on their own terms. Eventually everyone will come out on top and life will work out for them, as long as they’re happy with a steady job, kids and happiness.

Day in and day out, people do the same work that some no name did before them, they’re paid in nickels and dimes, and then they go home to a family that, just like them, spends more time at work than with the one’s they love. From 8:00 in the morning to 5:00 in the evening, the days pass by and time seems to move faster as everyone waits for that next impactful moment in their life when everything changes.

When life grows stale, kids arrive. They throw their parents out of their comfort zones and create a new list of demands and dreams. The goals that the parents had set for themselves are passed to the young, and the parents wither away as the children grow into another group of unachieved ambitions.

Once complacency sits in, happiness is inevitable. There’s nothing to worry about anymore as the kids become adults and are self-sufficient and you’ve gotten enough job security to become less expendable. Fears and insecurities shrink and leave the parents to the same lives that they had before kids but with more certainty with a comfortable death. Cyclic lives, like their parents before them and their children after, create the unending rotation of new spirit to crush on this godforsaken planet, with no sign of it ending.

The Suicide Disease feat. Trevor

This week, my friend Trevor stopped by to talk about the unpleasant experience that he’s had with “The Suicide Disease.” We talk about everything from suicide to dinosaur penis, so you’re sure to enjoy something in it.

Scott McTrevor

I am not a doctor, so do not treat this as therapy or medical advice. I just do this podcast with the hopes that it can help some people.

If you’re interested in other content by me, follow me on:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AcceptableMadness

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/acceptablemadness/

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpiT4JjAzziR-EODaBDPaJg

Last Minute

flowers marguerites destroyed dead
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Scott McShawshank

I never knew what I would be thinking when I got here. I always assumed it would have been something about my friends and family. Don’t get me wrong there is definitely some of that but not as much as I expected.

As I stand here, I think about how my family will feel once I’m gone. I think about the burden that they have been left with and how they will think about it everyday. I don’t know if they will ever get over it, but I don’t much care about that anymore. I’m just thinking of myself. Maybe it’s selfish but it doesn’t matter what others think when I’m gone.

The only other thing that keeps running through my mind is a scene from the Shawshank Redemption. That scene where the words “Brooks was here” are scratched into the rafters and he starts to rock his chair back and forth until it collapses beneath him. I always thought Brooks was a coward, but I get it now. He made the only decision that made any sense to him and all I can do is respect it.

I was curious as to why he chose the route that he did.  Why he chose the rafters and not a bridge or a weapon. It’s not really a choice, but rather, something forced on you by your mind. I never knew I’d choose it either but I did and it feels calming.

But now I’m done having these days thoughts. I will follow the path that Brooks had. Rock to the left then right. Rock to the left then right. Rock to the left then –

Wait Until It’s Over

Nothing that I write it supposed to inflict depressed thoughts on anyone. These are just some struggles that I have shoot through my head from time to time.

Scott McWaitingroom

Does it ever feel like you’re just wasting your life? You haven’t done anything impressive and everyone around you has. Some people have kids and dedicate their lives to that and others spend all of their time doing meaningless activities, but they both find fun and satisfaction in it. But what are you doing? Nothing.

When you play a game, it’s a waste of time because you’re not accomplishing anything. You’re just using your time and speeding like a bullet towards death, where every wasted minute is another that you’re feeling like there’s no point in having another minute of existence at all. You can’t have kids. They’d grow up to be the shitty ones at school that either bully the good kids or are too dumb to get anywhere in life. No matter the thing that you dedicate your life to, whether it’s friends, family, career or some other thing, you’ll fuck it up and be left as miserable as you are now.

headphones man music person
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That’s when the suicidal thoughts really hit. They hit when you feel like you can’t do anything right and that no matter what decision you make or what you spend your life on, it’ll still be a waste of time. You’ll still be nothing more than an object flying through space until the universe ends. If you can’t find purpose in something that’s directly within your power, then why push forward?

Everything feels so hopeless sometimes. Nothing you’re doing matters. Nothing that you’ve done has been good. Nothing that you will do will make you feel better. Maybe it’s best if we just lay in bed and wait until it’s over.

Down the Rabbit Hole

Scott McAliceinWonderland

“Turn the TV off,” she said. I know that we were running late already, but she didn’t need to tell me to turn the TV off. I’m not that easily distracted. I can have some background noise on if I want. It probably helps me work faster than otherwise, since being left to only silence is distracting all on its own.

close up of rabbit on field
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I can work and have the TV on. I actually can’t believe she told me to turn it off. Does she really have that little faith in my ability to work at a moderate pace so that we can leave? Is that what my own abilities lead her to think? I’m just so incapable of accomplishing such a menial task without getting distracted, so she needs to create circumstances that I’m more suited for. That makes sense. I know I’m a screw up, but damn – I thought I could at least pack up in a reasonable time.

I’m steaming. We’ve been together for over a year now and this is what she thinks of me? She must think that I’m just the dumbest fucking moron to exist. If I can’t even convince my girlfriend that I can pack up with the TV on in the background, then I’ll never be a published writer or start a successful business. She’s the one that’s always supposed to be by my side, but she thinks I’m fucking retarded!

I know how I’ll get back at her. I’m not going to talk to her while we drive. That’s it. That’ll teach her. If I don’t talk then she won’t know how angry I really am, and it will eat her up inside. God, that’s a good plan. I’ll do that.

At mile marker 170, I reached out to grab her hand. I still haven’t said anything, but I don’t want her to feel bad about anything. I mean, I’m not malicious and I don’t want to be emotionally abusive, so I don’t get why I’m even doing that. I should talk to her, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.

At mile marker 160, I said hello like the awkward person that I am. I haven’t talked to her for twenty minutes and that’s the best I can muster up? Hello? No wonder she asked me to turn the TV off to pack. I can’t even apologize in a timely matter for being ridiculous. I should have turned off the TV. I should have known better. I shouldn’t have had it on in the first place. I’m the reason that we’re going to be late to Thanksgiving dinner. It’s all my fault.

close up photography of brown rabbit
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I waited to say something again until the 140-mile marker. Fuck man, I know how stupid I’m being, and I can’t stop it. I don’t get why she puts up with me. I was so angry like thirty minutes ago, and now look at me. I’m never going to become a good writer since I can’t even focus if the TV is on in the background. I’ll never create a business. I’ll never be a good boyfriend. I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long, but all good things come to an end someday.

I should just kill myself. I’m a burden to everyone that I know and love. If I disappeared overnight, no one would care. My writing would perish and so would all of the other work that I’ve poured my heart into, but it’s for the best. I don’t get why I even try to do something with any amount of passion or ambition. I’m a nobody and everybody knows it. If I killed myself right now, it wouldn’t be through selfish means, that’s for damn sure. I would do it because it would make your life better.

Bored of Existence

Idea by: Nikos Koufus

Written by: Scott McAllknowingandpowerful

brown ganesha figurine
Photo by Artem Bali on Pexels.com

I find it interesting. The first thing that my creations did was develop time. Even the very first ones knew about time before they discovered time.

I have never had the privilege of feeling time. For me, nothing ages: It just changes. The grass that grows. The creations that evolve. The planets that harbor life and destroy it just as quickly.

Time is just a concept. I have no need for concepts.

The most interesting thing that they always do is create religion. I knew it would happen, but it still amuses me. There are many different religions. They are all so wrong.

Why would they assume that I value them? It is laughably arrogant. They worship me. They think I will help them; save them. They are blind by hope. When they get sick, they pray to me. Ha! I am the one who made them sick in the first place. I should have made a smarter species.

I am so bored. I do not know why I continue to create. It is such a waste of “time”. I cannot share it. I cannot admire it. When I try to design something new, I already know what it will do. Not only do I know, I have already witnessed it before. An infinite number of times, with an infinite number of different combinations.

There is one thing that religions always get right. I am all knowing. What is the point in being all knowing if it is always the same; never a surprise.

I have tried to surprise myself. I have tried to create super beings and I have communicated with them. But I developed their body. Their mind. Their consciousness. What they create, I created. It is so boring.

Maybe I will change them again. I did once before on this very planet. In this very universe. The only choices that I have are from my own thoughts. It gets so repetitive.

I could make another god – but I know that ends. There can only be one. That is how I was created. I do not think I am ready for that.

It is odd. The one thing that I do not have the power to do is simply stop existing. How ironic is that? The all-knowing god cannot find out how to stop existing.

Why am I even thinking that? I am being ridiculous… Right? I can do anything that I please without fear of failure. Any one of my creations would love that privilege. But would only need to tolerate it for a set period of “time”.

I could make… No. I have already done that. I could change something: The laws of physics maybe. But I have already done that before too. It just creates instability in the universe. Then I start again. I am so bored.

What could the new god be? If it is less powerful than I, then it is just another predictable creation; a demi-god of sorts. If it is equal strength, then there is no point. We will be identical. If it is stronger then I vanish immediately. They would have full control. I certainly did.

If the stronger appears, my creations disappear. But that does not matter. With the infinite knowledge and options, the exact creation will be designed again.

I am simply another past god’s creation. I am nothing special. I will vanish as quickly as my creations. Even as a god, I feel just as insignificant as anything else.

Which is why I have decided to create another god. A better god. A god that will take the burden of existence and pass it to another after an infinite amount of “time”. A god that will allow me to forget my boredom. But in the end, they will just be another creation.

Don’t Move

Scott McStationary

apartment bed carpet chair
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Lay still.

Don’t move.

What will happen if I stand?

 

The window looks welcoming.

The mouthwash looks delicious.

There’s a knife in the kitchen.

There’s a gun in the basement.

 

Don’t move.

Eyes open.

What will happen if I stand?

 

I could swing from the rafters.

Start the car, garage doors closed.

Swallow a bottle of pills.

Dive in to traffic.

 

Eyes open.

Tears streaming.

What will I do if I stand?

Best-Case Scenario

Scott McOptimism

You know, there are more thoughts than you would think that go into suicide. No one will ever need to talk me out of it because of the fears that I have that keep me from it.

What if I try to hang myself and the rope snaps? I don’t want to be a vegetable for the rest of my hopefully short life. If I try to shoot myself and I live, then what’s the point? If I can’t kill myself correctly then I might as well just live out the rest of my time hiding in my room. Can you imagine how painful it would be to shoot yourself in the head and live? Imagine jumping off a building and living. I’d be more machine than human at that point. Then I’d want to die, and I wouldn’t be able to go through metal detectors.

bunch of white oval medication tablets and white medication capsules
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There are so many other ways to kill myself that I’ve thought about. Jumping into traffic, driving off a cliff, overdosing on pills, drinking myself into a coma, but never drowning. I hate water. I pity anyone that drowns. There is no guarantee that any of these will work.

So, let’s pretend, best-case scenario, that the first time I tried to kill myself, it did work… then what? I’m not a particularly religious person, but I’m not an atheist. What if there is no afterlife. That’s inherently terrifying because once you’re dead, that’s it: Done, gone, forgotten. That shouldn’t scare me if I’m thinking about suicide, but it does. The whole point of killing myself is that this life is garbage and not doing for me what I wish it would. But if there is no afterlife, am I really getting what I want? It wouldn’t be better. It would just be over. Sure, if it’s over, then it’s better because I’m not dealing with it… but is that really what I want?

That doesn’t even address the fact of if there is an afterlife! What if Heaven and Hell are real? What if there is a divine judge who decides if I belong in Heaven or Hell, and he says Heaven? If I go to Heaven, it has to be great, right? But what if it’s not? If I die and go to Heaven, there is a chance that my mind hasn’t changed and I’m still just as depressed and suicidal there, too. Then where would I go if I kill myself? Absolutely nowhere, that’s where. I’d be stuck in the same place with the same mind and the same terrible existence.

And what if God tells me to go to Hell? If it’s what everyone says it is, then it’ll be miserable. A life in fire or ice, depending on what book you read; torture regardless of which one it turns out to be. I’ve often thought that Hell would be different, potentially better than Heaven. I know that by saying that, I’m going to Hell for sure, but think about it. Satan was only sent to Hell because he thought he was better than God, but if he thought that, wouldn’t he have something to show for it? He’d be powerful too, and I bet he would want Hell to be equal to, if not better than Heaven, so that he could show that he’s better than God. Sure, criminals of all shapes and sizes would live there, but what are they going to do, kill me? I’d already be dead! It wouldn’t matter. Honestly, I bet the people down there would be more interesting than the ones in Heaven. But even with all of that, I’m sure I’d still be depressed, and I’d still want to die again, but you can only die once.

I don’t know what to do, but I’m sure I won’t be killing myself anytime soon. There is too much chance involved, and so many variables to account for. It’d be easier to just keep pushing through my mundane, depressing life and hope it gets better. Then at the very least I wouldn’t be putting my existence in the hands of so many uncertainties.

Flavor of Life

Scott McTasty

You look and search and wait and crave. It’s amazing how much weight you give the unseen drive for something you’ve never felt or experienced. Everything, and I mean everything, revolves around this unsung emotion, one that avoids you like the people that you push yourself away from.

You work day in and day out and day in and day out. Some days it seems like its almost within reach, but when you try to touch it, the fear and anxiety and vulnerability push it farther and farther away. Instead of pursuing this flavor of life, you sit and wait impatiently for it to caress your lonely, longing skin.

The feeling that you know you want, the feeling that you have been waiting for, will appear again. Next time it comes, you’ll be ready for it. You won’t let it slip through your fingertips again. But when it arrives, it bounces off of the stone-cold roughness of your mind. It tries so hard to come back, but when you don’t know how long it will stay or how long it will gift you with its presence or how long you will feel that feeling that you have been waiting for, it’s so much easier to just push it away, instead of accepting it’s warm embrace.

But then you’re left alone. You’ve pushed away everyone and everything that you care about, searching instead for a feeling that you believe will never come. Watching your days pass you by, instead of experiencing the life that you have been gifted.

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Constructive Criticism

Scott McBargainshopper

It’s on sale now for $8.96 from Walmart. If I order the hard hat and everything else that I need, I might be able to get free shipping; all I need to do is spend more than $35.00. Actually, I don’t need the free shipping, I’ll just pick it up later. I don’t have plans today or tomorrow.

yellow and green hard hat on rack
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A reflective stripe spiced zipper from traffic security vest jacket (wow, that’s a mouthful) is only $14.16. That brings the total to $23.12. Hopefully I’ll find one that fits. I have a hard enough time finding everyday clothes that fit my oddly-shaped body, so I doubt I’ll be so lucky.

I probably need 6 traffic cones to really make my point. Actually, I hate the number 6. It’s always stood out to me and I don’t know why. 8 is such a nice number, divisible by 2 and 4, while 4 is divisible or squared into 2’s. 6 is the unsexy combination of 2 and 3 and it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I’ll get 8 traffic cones. Cost doesn’t matter to me at this point. I mean, an 18” street cone is $15.99 apiece, which brings my total to well over the $35.00 I need for free shipping. I’m buying it in the store anyway, so I don’t know why I keep thinking about free shipping.

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The last thing I need is a ladder. One that’s tall enough to reach the overhead traffic lights on the way to work. I drive passed them every day and wonder why they’re different. They are held by a thick steel bar that – no, it can’t be steel. Steel would be way too heavy. Maybe it’s fiberglass? But that seems like it wouldn’t be cost effective, but what do I know about fiberglass cost. It’s not a commodity like gold. Well fuck, I don’t know anything about gold prices either and I don’t care to look it up. What was I – oh right – the traffic lights. So, they’re held up by some steel-like metal that juts diagonally across the road and effortlessly dangles them below it. The way that it’s attached to the ground is through another, equally thick steel-like metal that juts out of the sidewalk. It basically makes a big L-shape. The ladder needs to be Dewalt. I almost bought a Werner, but John Oliver made fun of them on Last Week Tonight and that was enough to sway me. I don’t give a shit about ladders, but some writer somewhere does, and that was enough.

Shit, Walmart doesn’t even have Dewalt ladders. I’ll buy a Werner. I get free shipping if I get it from Walmart. Jesus, I don’t want to spend $59.99 on a ladder. I mean, I only need to buy it once, but I want to leave at least a little bit of money behind to help my parents pay off the college loans that I didn’t deserve. Fine, I’ll buy the ladder… at least I get free shipping.

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The drive to the intersection that I was talking about earlier is no more than 5 minutes from my apartment. I pulled my dark-blue Nissan over to the side of the road and turned the blinkers on. After the one car behind me drove around and flipped me off, I put the reflective jacket and hard hat on and set the cones out. 1 by 1, cars stopped behind the row of 8 cones and could do nothing but watch as I “made my repairs.” That had to be what they’re thinking, like, “why the hell is this guy doing work now? I’m just trying to get home.” That guy probably beats his wife when he gets home anyway. What difference does it make?

I set the ladder up in the middle of the intersection and stumbled to the top. It’s well lit for the first few steps, but it dims quickly. The street lights are aimed straight down and I’m not in their field of vision. That’s fine.

With the $6.42 rope that I bought, I wrap the untied end around the steel-like metal bar and tied it with a knot that I learned in Boy Scout’s in the fourth grade. I was in the Boy Scout’s until I quit because I hated tying knots. Then I put the other end around my neck and tipped off of the ladder.

Horns blared as the lights dimmed. People jumped out of their cars, but their hesitations from simply dressing in a reflective jacket and hard hat was enough to let me do what I had set out to do. The cones were a nice touch. I probably only needed 6.

I even got free shipping.

The Step

I am depressed. It’s as simply un-simple as that. I have depression. I frequent thoughts of suicide, and for some of you, they are more frightening than your biggest fears. I have no intention of killing myself, yet nobody really intends to kill themselves until they’re stricken with the sudden feeling of hopelessness that nobody can understand unless they’ve felt it. It’s a terrible feeling and one that I wouldn’t wish on anybody. That’s why I really hope that my writing can help even one person find a way to cope with their unpleasant, but not unusual thoughts.

Scott McDepression

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I stood near the edge of a bridge; looking down. The breeze caressed my face while the river’s waves crashed below me. The sun was high. The world felt quiet.

I couldn’t do it. I was terrified. I was acting crazy. What if it all goes wrong? What if it doesn’t work?

I took another step. Surrounded by trees and wildlife – nothing that would hear my scream. My vision started to blur, tunnel-vision overwhelming. Trying to clear my thoughts, I shook my head.

I took another step. There wasn’t any more bridge before me. Just a drop. Then god-knows-what will happen.

I took a deep breath and held it in. I let it out slowly until my lungs were empty. Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes.

I couldn’t do it. I was terrified. But I wanted to do it.

I could do it. I took one more step and fell forward. I had done it.

The wind blew past my face. The waves approached quickly. The tunnel-vision disappeared.

Relaxed. That’s how I felt. It was like a state of euphoria. Each passing second went slower than the last. Each one filled me with more happiness.

I was 20…

15…

5 feet from the water.

I closed my eyes again as I feared for the impact. I took one last breath.

Harpoon Gun

To start this blog, I’ll be posting semi-frequently so that I can get some of my older written work out to the public (or as I’m writing this, five people and my Facebook friends) and then get on a more regular schedule. I don’t write every day but I do my best. On some days I’ll opt to read instead because I treat that as studying to become a better writer. Also, my work tends to have a darker spin on it. You’ll start to see more into my mind with each thing that I post, and hopefully it doesn’t scare you away.

This piece was written because of a thought that I had every night for about four months, until I finally decided to write about it. After that, the thoughts left and I was left instead with this short. I hope you like it.

Scott McSavethewhales

*Note: this has nothing to do with whales

Every night before I fall asleep, I have this profound vision of me holding a harpoon gun. Just like every harpoon gun that’s existed before it, it has a spike on the end that will pierce whatever it hits. It won’t fall away and it certainly won’t break. In this nightly vision, I shoot this harpoon out of the gun and it launches into the air, but tied to the back is a noose, which is tightly wrapped around my neck.

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Depending on the night, the outcome changes. If I’m feeling science-y, I’ll try to estimate how fast the harpoon would need to travel to either break my neck or just rip my head clean off. If I’m feeling extravagant, I imagine myself in a large cathedral, and when I shoot the harpoon, I’m lifted high into the air and suspended in a religious-looking pose, resembling the inappropriate elegance of the crucifixion. When I’m feeling dark, the harpoon goes straight into my bedroom ceiling and I’m left alone, waiting to be discovered by family, friends or whoever smells my rotten corpse dangling above the now stained carpet.

After I have these odd thoughts, I’m left in the dark of my room. I don’t have a harpoon gun or a noose. I don’t have the courage to do it without a harpoon gun and I don’t have the cowardice or smarts to see if it would work in the first place. But every night, I’ll have this same thought. And every night it’ll be the same inescapable goodnight that my imagination plays for me, as if hoping that my dreams are filled with the same nightmarish thoughts that inhabit my brain throughout the day.