Ireland by D.I. Jolly

Trigger Warning: Contains themes of suicide.

It’s not uncommon to believe that Guinness tastes better in Ireland than it does anywhere else in the world. But then again people also believe that free food tastes better, a cold beer hard-earned is good for you and that chips from someone else’s plate somehow doesn’t contain calories. So, you can’t really believe everything everyone tells you. But this much I know to be true. 

In the morning the sun will rise, if you stand in the rain you will get wet, and by this time next week, people will have already started to forget my name. 

I don’t really hold it against them, it’s natural, it’s how we’ve survived as a species over the course of thousands of years. Instinctively we’ve learned to put down the problems and tragedies of our lives and move on. 

I know it’s easy for me to say, I am the antagonist in all of this. But really, that’s why I’m doing this. I needed to take an active role in my own life and this was the only thing I could think to do. 

I won’t lie, this isn’t the first draft of this letter. I’ve written it once a week for the last few months. I hope that isn’t too shocking to read. Every time I’ve gotten close, I always fall into the same pattern of thinking about how it affects other people, what commitments I have made and potential promises. Which is what finally got me here. I realised that I needed to stop living for others and start doing things for me, living my life for me, and once I was done stripping everything away, I also realised that, … I didn’t have a life or me to live for. When I looked at the sum of my life, I realised that every action I have taken has been a reaction to everyone else and how they thought, felt and wanted. 

Now I chose to make the only decision that really matters, the only path I can see that is 100% just for me. I do not know if I love you all, but I am genuinely worried that I’m going to miss you. I know it sounds silly, but it’s the kind of thoughts you find in these sorts of the moment. 

I promise though, tomorrow the sun will rise, if you stand in the rain you will get wet, and eventually, you will forget my name. 


He lifted up his letter and read it over a few times, then smiled and sighed feeling the waves of goosebumps wash over his body. It took him a moment to steady himself but he managed to walk to the middle of the room, note in hand and take the two steps up the stepladder to be in line with the noose. The last two steps he would ever take. It took a couple more minutes to get his shaking hands to pin the note to his shirt, then after another long deep breath, he slipped the rope over his head, and jumped from the ladder.

As he did this, time seemed to slow and he was faced with the memory of his entire life in full detail all at the same time. He spontaneously wanted to laugh with joy and weep with the deepest sorrow, and in a final moment of pure brilliant clarity, he realised that he wouldn’t have changed any of it for anything, not even the ending.

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