What really struck me is no one cried, not a single tear and after the funeral life went on normal, I actualy assume that might happen if I were to commit suicide.
Jack,
I don't understand why the fact of other people
not caring would prevent you from taking your own life? As I see it, it would be the fact that people
do care that would make me think again before I pulled the trigger. Could you please explain?
I briefly thought about hanging myself when I was sixteen years old. Well, I didn't
really want to end my life. I simply wanted to get the world to notice my suffering. However, the obvious problem with using suicide as a cry for help is that once you've made your cry heard, no amount of help is useful. But I suspect what we actually want is to botch the job. We want to fail in our attempt to kill ourself. This brings the desired attention and pity, yet we can get up, dust ourselves off, and go on with our life.
Life will soon enough finish what I had not the heart to do at sixteen. At sixteen I imagined the life ahead of me might feel like centuries. At forty-five, the life behind me feels as if it should have been measured in weeks. I'm afraid if this trend continues that the life ahead of me might as well be measured in days. Strangely, my life up till age sixteen seemed far longer than my life from sixteen till the present.
Jack, you are just past the point of lift-off in your life. You are doubtless looking out the window of your rocket and wondering why the gantry is passing by you so slowly. You wonder how you ever will get into space at this rate. But by age twenty-five you feel the acceleration creeping upon you. By age thirty-five, you are roughly pressed back into your seat and are beginning to feel the first beads of sweat on your forehead and the taste of fear in your mouth. It's no coincidence that this is the time that men begin to have their "Mid-life Crisis." At age forty-five the rocket is vibrating like mad. Your teeth are chattering. The earth has changed from a landscape to a spherescape. I'll have to get back with you about the rest of the ride. Older men try to tell me what it will be like, but I don't believe them. I won't believe it till I'm there myself. Likewise, you shouldn't believe what I tell you it will be like. Since you are already strapped in, and the rocket is burning, why bother hitting the "Self-Destruct" button now? You might as well go for the ride and see for yourself.
Is suicide ever of use? Yes, I suppose on occasions suicide is a welcome relief. Think of Rudyard Kipling's,
The Young British Soldier
"When you're wounded and left, on Afghanistan's plains, and the women come out, to cut up your remains, just roll on your rifle, and blow out your brains, and go to your Gawd, like a soldier."
I've known a number of people who have done this. Pervasive hopelessness brought about by a threatening disease or a lost love, etc., often prompt a desire to end one's own life.
Jack, you are correct in thinking that the survivors soon forget about those that prematurely have hit that "Self-Destruct" button. Life is lived by those that choose to live. We don't communicate with the dead. We look to those around us for mutual comfort. Dead men are very soon forgotten. They are nothing.
I'll be nothing all too soon for my liking. Instead of a bullet to my brain, I reach instead for anything I think might prolong a healthy and happy life. I exercise like a madman, and avoid all the usual vices. Death is going to have to chase me down and be prepared to wrestle.
Michael