The Death of a Friend
By Phil on May. 17, 2009.
But by then I was already beyond caring. I was only thinking about death. So this is how people die. So this is what death feels like. I became obsessed with death. For the next six months, I was an emotional mess of guilt, fear, and morbid curiosity. I became a sort of an anarchistic, cynical atheist. All the teachers in my school and my parents were up in arms about me because after I talked to any classmate, he would become just like me—depressed, angry, and lost, not a bit interested in school work. Ilchi Lee writes I would ask them, “Why do you study?” and grill them until they admitted that they knew nothing about what life was. “You could die the next day. What possible good could studying do you?”
It got to the point that I thought about death all the time. I carried around some sleeping pills with me because I wanted to feel some power or control over my own death. I didn’t want death to sneak up on me. So, I decided to die. I went to a remote place where I could watch the stars, and dug up a deep hole in which I could lie down. Then I gulped down some liquor along with the sleeping pills and waited for death to take me as I watched the twinkling stars. Then this person came to rescue me. This mother of a local postman. She said later that somebody came to her in a dream telling her to save this person who is trying to commit suicide in an abandoned lot.
Category: Ilchi Lee