Hoping to Die


There was a time in my life when the land was covered in darkness. It did not matter what time of the day it was, there was simply no light. I walked the world a ghost and prayed to any god that would listen that he or she would simply end it for me. I wanted to die. I wrote the below poem in remembrance of that time of weakness.

And there they lay. The tools of the day. A razor, a pile of pills, and a bottle of Tanqueray.

I have stared in the mirror for hours. All have gone to bed. With each tear has come resolve. We may as well end it all. I hate you. With a hand I gulp the pills, the bottle is already near. I gulp death’s companion. And to the left are the backup dancers.

A letter to someone… I hope… anyone?

Never there is a reply. I say this aloud now as the razor cuts once, twice, thrice… and as the ice cold water washes away my sight. I feel life fleeing from my nearing empty vessel. And suddenly a wrongness, a surrender of an opportunity? I do not know.

And as the light flees the coming darkness, all I can do is embrace the growing warmth.

People fail to realize that there is depression and there is suicidal. To me suicidal is the point you reach when you just don’t care. You could give a shit less about heaven or hell, they are one and the same because your life has become a living hell. It doesn’t matter how many “do gooders” speak soft words in your direction, you only see darkness.

I remember well that time still to this day. The feeling of that night, sitting online and telling a few “close online friends” that I just didn’t care. That it was time to see what the next page brought. I remember a feeling of finality when I shut down my mother’s computer. My steps were almost light as I walked slowly upstairs. Neither asleep, nor really awake… I walked like a man in a daze to my bathroom. I starred at myself in the mirror for what seems like hours and in those precious minutes I decided I was ready to die. I made that choice. I took those pills and I drank that bottle to the head and I remember smiling. Because finally I didn’t feel so cold anymore. The warmth of death was my friend that night and I was ready to receive him.

It changes you… that type of experience. It is nothing to brag about and many might feel ashamed of that type of weakness. To feel ashamed of being human is a shame in itself. I was human that night, but I am lucky my humanity failed to die.

-Opinionated Man

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OM


Thank me not into the night. Where stars die and angels fall from the sky.

Forever a stranger will I be. A name without a face, as faceless as a name can be. Do not worry about the person behind the mask. Simply pay the kindness forward to others.

-OM

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Thank you


Thank you to the whistleblowers that have helped me find when my work is being stolen. Thankfully the recent incident wasn’t major. Let me explain. People don’t steal my posts because they consider it great writing. They jack it to try and duplicate the traffic they see a post has gained, which is dumb because that isn’t how it works. They also think “how will he ever find out?” Well most people won’t ever find out, but I got bored a long time ago and started doing a search matrix almost daily for myself. If you steal my writing and post it on WordPress I will eventually find it. Maybe.

Just don’t steal my work. I don’t know about the rest of you bloggers, but it honestly feels like some asshole just took a shit on my lawn and waited to tell me about it. Fuck that.

All work on aopinionatedman.com is copyrighted. If you wish to reblog I encourage it, but do not copy and paste my work without giving some kind of acknowledgment to me the creator. That isn’t too much to ask.

Don’t be a lazy little shit. Create your own content. People take the time to brainstorm and come up with ideas. You can piggyback off someone’s posts, but copying word for word is never right. That is called COPYING and is why we have those fucking copyrights. Don’t copy my shit or other bloggers stuff either. There are a lot of great posts being made every minute. Go make your own.

-Opinionated Man

  

For Men Only – “Decorative Towels”


Men I thought it might be nice to give you all a quick guide to the anomaly called “the decorative item.” If you have a steady woman, live-in girlfriend, or wife you may have encountered these strange objects around the house and thought to yourself much like me “what the fuck are these for???” Make no mistakes, these items are not to be used . Ever. EVER! They are merely for the… what again? Because not even guest are supposed to use them.

I give you item A men, the decorative towel.

  
These specimens have been seen throughout the world and are invading bathrooms daily. What are they for? Don’t touch it! …god are you crazy? That was close. Just look. Now consider this, even if for some reason some intruder came in and I saved the day like the Korean Superman I am I still better not use that towel to clean my blood. That towel right there gentlemen… yes, it looks normal doesn’t it? We are all in agreement this is a normal towel? I don’t get it either… next they’ll invent decorative beers…

-OM