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Study life, study literature. Eat food. Lots of it.
Also, I use a lot of adjectives- working on that, so bear with me.

Monday, 16 September 2013

Why Not To Kill Yourself

That kind of came out of nowhere, didn't it? Well no, I think all of us are somewhat suicidal at our worst moments. Not every one carries that thought too far, but every one has a few very bleak moments when they want all the shit to end.

Ever thought about the practicalities of it all? Take a minute and do that. As inviting as the supposed white light may seem, think of the very many reasons not to do it. No, I don't mean be strong and hope for the best, think of the good things in life and all that bull. I mean the actual, real world problems that come with suicide. Like these:

It makes a mess.
No matter what rite of passage you choose for your final flight, its going to lead to a lot of cleaning work. Blood stains, vomit, duct tape,scorch marks and ashes, broken fans- all of this needs to be cleaned up, and obviously you won't be able to do it yourself. Do you remember cribbing every time the maid doesn't turn up and you have to make your own bed? Well, multiply that effort a number of times , because I'm pretty sure blood stains are much harder to get rid of.  

It is bound to hurt. 
I remember reading something by Dorothy Parker some years ago, and it has stuck with me ever since:
Razors pain you;

Rivers are damp;

Acids stain you;

And drugs cause cramp.

Guns aren’t lawful;

Nooses give;

Gas smells awful;

You might as well live.

So yeah, it can't be painless. Cutting, slashing, shooting, pill-popping, jumping in front of a truck, burning- none of it can be comfortable. Unless you find Cyanide, that's cool.

Someone has to find you. 
How comfortable would you be, if you walk into a room looking for something, and find a dead body in there in stead? I'm assuming that it won't quite be a party. So it can't be easy for someone else to find you there either. 
On the flip side, what happens if you make all that effort to die, and no one finds you after? Sort of ruins the purpose if your body never makes it to the funeral, right?

You'll have to write a suicide note.
For those of you who feel that a suicide note is necessary in order to explain/blame/justify why you're doing what you're doing, think of all the effort that it will require. Most of us crib when we're asked to write a 500 word assignment for class. A suicide note will require much more toil. Not fun.
Plus, legible handwriting is too high an aim for most of us, and typing it out is too impersonal. Such paperwork in the way of escape? Nahi chalega, nahi chalega.

Who gets your books?
Obviously, you can't discuss who gets your possessions after you die with your friends and family when you're contemplating suicide. So then what do you do when those people that you've barely spoken to come and claim your things? Can't exactly haunt them later for sure either. 

What about Dexter?
This one's not really that much of a priority, but in today's rather gruesome world, a suicide means that you're depriving a serial killer/conman/terrorist/drunk driver/don/mafia-man of a genuine victim. How will their economy survive if we sad ones keep wiping ourselves out? That's hardly fair, isn't it?

Ergo, look sharp, walk past all the sadness and pain, into something better. Because honestly, this is way too much practicality for one sad person to handle. Might as well go get chocolate ice cream in stead and try to smile.

P.S: I know this is morbid, and this may scare or gross out some of you. It may even seem extremely hurtful and not at all funny to many. I do not intend to make fun of suicides. My muse is uncontrollable, and she cannot be stopped once she begins. So things like this will keep making appearances every once in a while. I hope you guys enjoy it.