There have been many times when I have wished that the world would stop. I wanted to put a spoke in the wheels of time. I wanted it to come screeching to a halt so that I could get off in a dignified manner, a pale, girlish foot stepping into the blackest of space. Becoming a part of it, dissolving into it, never to be seen again.
The question was: how would I get to this point? The Catholic faith does not look terribly kindly upon those who choose to commit suicide. Look to the reaction engendered by Ophelia’s death in Hamlet. It is a mortal sin with no possibility of redemption. It is self murder and once done can never be undone. You have relinquished your immortal soul.
It occurred to be that I could entice one of the more unpleasant members of my species to push me over the edge. The problem with this strategy is that it involves enticing another into committing a mortal sin. (only this time with at least some possibility of redemption.) Also having initiated the process I would be acting with suicidal intent. So, ultimately, that’s two immortal souls lost. And I cannot escape from the idea that, given that I did not create myself, I have no right to destroy myself.
Above all, I recognise that I will be remembered as a silly, spoilt, selfish girl who squandered every opportunity she had ever been given.
And this is why, for the moment at least, I want the world to keep on turning.