Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington, Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell, Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain, Robin Williams and Infinite Jest’s author David Foster Wallace, all committed suicide because they were depressed. These are the fives who influenced my life somehow. I’m quite certain that a google search of famous people who committed suicide will yield hundreds of results and maybe thousands more who were never famous (850,000 by the estimation of Global Burden of Diseases 2013).

If you came to this blog to read about Chester Bennington, Just go back and search Wikipedia. I’ve no need for that right now, I’m in no mood to discuss Chester, I’m angry and I’m confused. And I’m not going to write eloquent paragraph’s describing the impact Linkin Park’s music had on me. I’m not going to quote the lyrics of “Numb.”

Depression I understand. Suicide, I don’t.

Now if you can’t see the wrongness of it all, then I don’t want to talk to you, you won’t understand any of it anyway, because for you depression–um, depression…., Uh, depression, my dear old friend, see, even for me, it’s difficult to explain.

When you’re sitting in a room full of people and yet you have never felt more alone. All you feel around you is an everlasting rain. Water drops that fall on your skin and yet your skin burns. Everyone understands depression, no one understands it enough. Maybe it applies to me too.

You can have hundreds of medical issues, which are your fault by the way, and no one will judge you, but you have any kind of mental disorder, you end up being the weirdest person anyone knows. You can have one out of hundreds of cardiovascular disorders, and even though you smoked your entire life, ate all kind of crap, never exercised once in your life and everyone would be like it’s alright, all you need are few pills. You can have respiratory disorders, and again you guessed it, it is your fault but all you need are few pills. But no one would judge you. Now if you have any mental disorder, let’s talk about the most hated one, depression, you’ll find the supporting world to be a little different. Now you do need pills, but you also need understanding and support of your loved ones and that’s where the problem start.

Now if a society can be so hypocritical, is that really something you want the acceptance of?

So often people have asked me, how successful people get depressed. I’m not sure, what I do know, depression has nothing to do with fame or money. So many famous people have committed suicide, people who we knew were depressed. Maybe I should kill myself too, finally a way out. Maybe I’ll finally feel something. Anything but this numbness.

I’ve never been able to understand the fascination with suicide. I mean, at what point does your life becomes so fucked up that the only way out is death? Do you know why utopias are only seen in books? Because, you idiots, life is pain. There is no such thing as a bad life or a good life. There is only life. Now before anyone lectures me about poverty, segregation by class, slavery, racism. Let me tell you one thing, life is fucked up, it doesn’t means you give up. You fight back. Someone punches you in the face, you fall down but you get back up and punch the fucker straight in the face.

Perceptions. Personal satisfaction. Quest for wholeness. Atonement with the Holy Father, they all look good in books. In real life, practicality and pragmatism are your only options. You do not give up. And if you are too unsatisfied with everything, then speak your mind. Change something about it. Do something about it.

Teen suicide. I mean what the fuck, someone bullies you, can’t you fucking say something? You have hundred hours to upload pictures on social media, tweet what you eat for breakfast, but you do not have the guts to say that you’re abused, that the things which are wrong, are wrong. No kind of social dogma makes it right, No kind of social or peer acceptance is worth it, why is that so difficult to say? Why should I care for the opinion of a society who doesn’t understands depression? When I don’t listen to the voices in my head, why the hell should I listen to yours?

Hiding behind the blankets of insecurities, social acceptance, will never make any of it right. You so proudly end up saying, “I’m socially awkward, I’m weird” like that is supposed to be a cute thing. What the hell. For your kind information, everyone is awkward. Someone speaks funny, someone walks funny, someone thinks funny and some shit funny, you idiots, everyone is different. That is the whole point.

I understand depression, more than you would like to believe, I advocate for support for mental disorders, I understand alienation, no, not the UFO kind. But I do not, and I cannot stress it enough, I do not understand cowards. I do not understand suicide.

Punch someone if you have to, shout if you to, so what if someone thinks you’re weird, apparently you wear it as a badge on social media anyway. Show the middle finger to everyone. Stop trying to please everyone. I cannot sympathize with stupidity. I cannot sympathize with suicide. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, I hate cowards.

Count me reasons, count me hundreds of them and I’ll tell you one thing over and over again, all of that is to be liked by others. Don’t count poverty, you’ll die of starvation anyway, you cannot afford the luxury of suicide. Oh, fuck, social acceptance. I’m tired of this particular term now. Peer pressure, ostracization, think of ten other trendy names. None of it will change the fact, you are a coward if you think dying solves something. There is nothing after death, only more death, hope of your loved ones dies first, any feeling of association dies next. One by one, everything you ever touched, dies, simply by association. There is no greater meaning to life and similarly there is no greater meaning to death.

Eat. Kill. Repeat.

It’s as simple as that. And no, I do not mean kill the person standing next to you. Kill is a metaphor to denote surviving life.

I had an abusive childhood, I was depressed most of my teenage years and yet here I stand, throwing a tantrum at everyone who believes suicide to be the only solution. And yes I was depressed, not sad. They are two different things. And if you believe them to be same, you are not depressed, you’re just an idiot for throwing away your life.


4 thoughts on “Suicide Note – Fifth Revision

  1. I had this attitude, belief, when someone I love very much contemplated suicide. I realized it doesn’t help. It is frustrating to think you can’t help someone. I tried everything and then just got mad and said basically what you’re saying here. But I’m not in their mind, feel the hopelessness and how tired of fighting they are. That’s the thing, we cant know it.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s