Suicide.

Just the word prompts unpleasant feelings, doesn't it? Why? Why does suicide hold such a negative connotation? I'm tempted to say because of the Bible. Of course, people have expended their reasons since then, but I think it may have started there. Suicide used to be considered honorable. It was a brave act, to take your own life rather than shaming yourself or your family. Now the word is shameful itself.

Why?

Is it such a horrible thing? Is it cowardly? Many people are considered weak for squirming at the mere sight of blood. Therefore, shouldn't it be considered brave, if nothing else, to strike your own skin? Regardless of the aim or not, to mark one's self takes an amount of courage. How is cutting different than tattoos or piercings? It's creating a mark on your body that is uniquely yours. To do it to others is different -- you feel no physical pain yourself. But to inflict pain on yourself, there is an onslaught of different types of pain -- the anticipation, fear of the pain, and then the physical pain itself. It somehow hurts more. But I digress.

Perhaps it has become such a cursed word because people commit suicide for the wrong reasons. But is there a right reason? Is it selfish or cowardly to take your own life when it becomes too much to bear? When worded that way, one is inclined to say yes. But isn't it selfless and brave to remove yourself when you are obviously unwanted company? I find myself contemplating the difference, only to soon berate myself for moaning over my struggles, petty in comparison to others'. Those who have no homes, no food. Why, then, do they seem to strive to live while others strive to die? Perhaps strive is not the correct word. No one truly wants death, and no one is truly unafraid of death. It is simply something that is able to be accepted, and even invited. Like a long nap.

I do so love sleep.

Why is it considered "idiotic" to commit suicide? People so easily forget not everyone is like them. They are not considerate of others', let alone their feelings. What may irk someone to the point of madness and even physical discomfort may mean nothing to someone else. Friends think only of themselves and family sever ties. You are alone in the world, no matter the illusion that you create during life. Why is it idiotic to take note of this, and decide to not take part in a disgusting charade? To not kid oneself any longer, and choose not to be a pawn in your mind's own game? To choose not to be the fool? The world is so full of ill-mannered people, taking up space and hurting those around them, and it is so very over-populated. To choose not to associate with these people and to help solve a global problem... Is that so wrong? So dumb?

Perhaps the opinion of suicide changed for the better, as most things do with the passage of time. "A permanent solution to a temporary problem." Perhaps it is. But then, who are you to say a problem is temporary? Guilt can haunt you your entire life. Certain problems never change. Some scars never fade. Once broken, nothing is ever the same. Eventually, something is so broken it can no longer be put back together. Who are you to say this does not apply to consciousness? But then, who are you to say death will solve that? Death is unknown and a gamble. Perhaps one may want to experience death for themselves to finally answer the eternal question. Perhaps death is forever a sweet dream to caress you, or nightmares to haunt you.

But it is so easy to think "anything must be better than this."

If you are truly alone, suicide is simple. No one will be affected but you. This is not to be confused with simply thinking you are alone. Friends, family, are affected for better or for worse. Is this what makes it a selfish act? Or are the affected the selfish ones, too worried about their own feelings to remember those of the deceased. It is such an attitude that can easily drive that friend to the grave.

So easy to believe "they'll be fine without me."

These are merely my philosophical wonderings and questions. Perhaps I should never have written them. I am used to staying silent, or simply being unheard. But I have recently come to the conclusion that my questions will never bear answers without seeking them, which is out of my element, but I am willing to do so. I am not a pessimist; I am a realist. I am not naive; I am curious. I question the taboo, and often am haunted by darkness.

And I bear this alone. For the constant reminders that I have none that have not hurt me, betrayed me, or forgotten me. I am quite sure you can say the same.

No matter what you do, someone is better. But who is the best?

The best are dead.

Or perhaps they never existed.

Perhaps some should not exist.

Perhaps this should be ignored.

~ Katt

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