The thought of suicide is a powerful solace: by means of it one gets through many a bad night. - Nietzsche


Interesting... You've followed this link. Maybe you want to or have wanted to check out early. If you're looking for how to hints, you won't find them here. The fact that this site exists is an indication that I have opted to stick around for a while.

Please do not take this lightly. If you have ever contemplated suicide, you know that this not something one usually wants to discuss. Many people find the idea of suicide even more repulsive than crossdressing. They just can't understand why someone would want to kill herself.

Although what follows is applicable to anyone, understand that it is the basis for why I did not choose to kill myself. It is rooted in existentialism and does not even attempt to address the effects of suicide on others in our lives. It is presented here for your consideration in the hopes that it may be of some help.

The Problem With Suicide

By: Donna Lynn Matthews, December 1997

My rejection in high school made me realize the absurdity of life. As a rational individual, I tried to understand and make some sense of my life and my place in the world. I wasn't getting anywhere too quickly with this. The more I tried to figure it out, the more frustrated I got. Being turned down was just a confirmation of what I had already surmised, life was one big cruel joke. It seemed to me that as time went on, things would only get worse. So, I decided to cut my losses and kill myself; I saw no good reason to stick around.

The rest of my senior year and all summer, I contemplated how and when to do it. I decided that at some point, I'd just point my car at something big (a tree, a utility pole, a wall), floor it, close my eyes and Bam, problem solved. Then I asked myself "Is this really the answer? Am I really better off dead?" When I thought about it, I mean really thought it through, I came to the conclusion that I just didn't know for sure. Great, I was no closer to an answer than before.

I had already decided that life was a joke at best, full of disappointment and uncertainty; in a word, hopeless. But suicide meant that I was certain that I would be better off dead. I found this more troubling than my crossdressing. How could I be so certain of this and nothing else? Something inside said that it must be better to be than to not be. I decided to reject the absurdity of my life and live in spite of it.

Now, this all sounds good, but what does it all mean? As rational beings, we seek absolutes. We want answers to all our questions. The world, on the other hand, offers little in the way satisfaction. It is the disproportion between our wants and what the world yields which is the absurdity of existence. Suicide is a declaration that it is absolutely better not to be than to be.

Welcome to Existentialism 101...

Right about now, you're probably not feeling a whole lot better (just a lot of philosophical BS, right?) Well, it was this realization that kept my car on the road. I didn't know that I would be better off dead than alive. I was, however, reasonable sure that if I did kill myself, and I was wrong, that this would be the ultimate screw up! I realized that suicide was just the easy way out.

After a minor in philosophy (leaving me with more questions than I started out with) I realized that what affirmed my life was the struggle to know: who I am, why I am and anything else that interested me. Rather than just accept that this is he way things were, I decided to question why, and I haven't stopped yet.

It has been said the suicide is our only immediate possibility; it's the one thing which we can always do next. That and a token gets you on the subway. The problem with suicide is that you gain nothing from the experience. To not be is to miss out on the biggest ride of all, life; and there is so much in life to experience.

So, stick around a while. Find someone to talk to about all this stuff bouncing around in your head (there are a lot of us and you'll find that we're pretty good listeners!) You'll be glad you did.

For a "straight from the horse's mouth" version of this, read The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus.

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