I believe in legalizing suicide. Right now would be a very good time to pass this law so I wouldn’t have to keep writing this paper. Writing this is more painful than cutting my wrists with butter knives and slowly bleeding to death on a cold concrete floor all alone in minus thirty degree weather. A less painful and probably better alternative would be for the medical geniuses of the world to invent a drug that would unlock the creative side of my brain and let words flow from my fingers in a fraction of the time it is taking me now. I know that these drugs already exist in the illegal form and I could always go the route of illegal hallucinogenic drugs like LSD, but if I did use LSD or something similar, I probably wouldn’t be coherent enough to use my spell checker.
But, I’m a good law abiding citizen. If I wasn’t, I would have gone with plan A and used my butter knives. It would also take a great burden off my parents’, siblings’ and friends’ shoulders, for they would no longer have to listen to me moan, groan and complain about English class, and all the papers I have to write. I know that if I keep on living, the rest of my life will be filled with writing assignments, writing for work, writing for school, and writing for communication between friends.
Now that I have shared such dark thoughts with you, you are probably considering calling Social Services and the sheriff’s department to get me locked up in the psycho floor at the nearest hospital. Not a bad idea. My guess is, most likely, I would not have to write at all if I were there. But living there would probably be really boring, and yet scary. It would be freaky seeing all the people in their white coats and patients in their restraints. So I return to my original hypothesis, that legalized suicide could very well be my best option.
However, in and through my struggles, I have begun to discover something. The words I labor to write begin to have a power and a purpose I did not know existed. Through my pain to write, something is being created in my mind and then on paper. I am learning through my suffering to express myself with the very words I struggle to write. I am being challenged and encouraged by my instructor. He is opening my mind and inspiring me to be able to begin to write. This, I truly believe.
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