But if it is hard to fix the precise instant, the subtle step when the mind opted for death, it is easier to deduce from the act itself the consequences it implies. In a sense, and as in melodrama, killing yourself amounts to confessing. It is confessing that life is too much for you or that you do not understand it. Let's not go too far in such analogies, however, but rather return to everyday words. It is merely confessing that that "is not worth the trouble."
In the face of such contradictions and obscurities must we conclude that there is no relationship between the opinion one has about life and the act one commits to leave it? Let us not exaggerate in this direction. In a man' s attachment to life there is something stronger than all the ills in the world. The body' s judgement is as good as the mind's, and the body shrinks from annihilation. We get into the habit of living before acquiring the habit of thinking. In that race which daily hastens us toward death, the body maintains its irreparable lead.
Albert Camus, Myth of Sisyphus
Isn't this just practically concluding that one keeps living despite all the bad things, simply because it's worth the trouble?
Why do anything at all? I'm doing work that I occasionally hate, yet I must comply because it's worth the trouble, the rewards and optimistic outlook about life that life is not just about work and there is much more to life than work. As much as sometimes and some jobs can be soul crushing, one point of view of life becomes bleak as day by day revolves on things or activities in life that is not worth the trouble, then suicide becomes justifiable for that individual.
Imagine a lonely cramped up world from the lens of such individual, taken into a picture that one has lived a life of isolation, determined that out of his own subjective experience, one has convinced oneself that he has only brought sadness and the pressure out of the thought has crippled him. Living has become an obligation, trouble to be solved, instead of an activity that love is laced within.
There is nothing grounding you to work, to live in such society, your hate towards work is something that you made on your own, maybe there are your own personal reasons to hate work and how society came into being, right now. But a 'sane' mind 'usually' still able to see that out of all discrepancies and misfortunates that live comes to beat the individual to the ground, the beat up is still worth the trouble as tomorrow marks another hope. Suicide is justifiable out of the abscence of hope, the state of despair that one has fully convinced itself, another day marks another trouble, another shit waiting to be solved and fuck it costs a lot of energy.
Absurdisty is a mean to failure to understand. Life is an abstract thing to begin with, it always has been. People come and go and words and interpretations of affective words are sometimes different from one to another. Things that happened are always up to the individual to interpret. There are no saving hands of grace. There is no gold at the edge of the rainbow. No one promised you fucking anything. Even yourself is what you make out of it, represented by what you do.
Why do anything at all?
Why not leave everything?
Goodbyes that marks the end of all goodbyes.
Because through all the hardships, there is still a chance that it is worth the trouble, or maybe there is never any trouble at all. Maybe you are misinterpreting things, maybe just maybe you are not right all the time. Maybe those thoughts that rang inside your head telling you that you are worthless could be wrong.
People live and people dies, in between, there are struggles and pain but very little wants to admit it.
In a world where creative expression of the individual is repressed and be deemed as signs of weakness, people are bound to be sad alone.
Through the individualness of the individual, people constantly shape the image of themselves at least initially out of their best assumptions on how they want to be seen. There is nothing inherently bad about it, it's just the way it is. At least that's how they want to phrase it.
Through the complexities of mirror neurons, on how the self sees a part of themselves at certain selves that shared common values with the self. Through birds that dance around other birds that have resemblance towards him and travel in groups. Through favoritism by evolution that favors collective efforts of the group that rewards happiness in the process.
Good can be taken away from you and strip your humanity through all sense possible.
I wouldn't lie if I suddenly just come to find that my country is invaded and to witness the gangrape of my parents in front of my very eyes and have my hands be chopped apart from my limbs. I would say that I will at least deviate from my current optimistic outlook on life.
If my wife suddenly have dementia after 30 years of marriage.
If I worked so hard on the thing that I loved the most and to see it stripped down out of absurdity that I fail to comprehend.
People have different levels of comprehension and boiling points that 'sustains' sanity.
I can't say my neighbor's suffering is much more greater than mine, as much as my neighbor's suffering is greater than mine.
Yet without opening up, suffering and the troubleness of life, the externals that bends our worldview through heights of optimism to heights of despair, is completely up to the individual to interpret the inherentlessly meaningless soap opera called life. You could point out every flaw that the actors made or be cackled by the fact they are performing so bad yet they put an effort into it.
I will never understand you as a person as I never talk to you. I don't know why you choose you path to suicide, all I know is that we have a sense of resemblance, on how we feel emotions, the extrapolation and heights of the same emotions are completely truly yours to experience as I am not raised the way you were raised. Through your own unique circumstances and your unique view of the world out of your unique existence. All I can promise is that you are going to become a stronger person out of all every suffering you've experienced. You will become more human than you were. To have all these emotions, to have sympathy out of context of your suffering, to have lived and greet the hands of pain and despair, to have shake their hands and say, 'you are a part of me and I am a part of you, as much as I am not me without you.'
and Pain will say 'You want me to leave out of your house you call life, yet your house loses parts of its bricks without me.'
'I am not as beautiful as love, but my essence is a reminder that the through the scarcitiy of all, love can't stand on it's two feet without me.'
'Through the heights of love, you know I lingers on the downside of it all, to see the things you've built so high and love so high. You fail to register the fact the reason why you're looking down on me not because you pity me, rather I'm the one who's holding you and love so you can stand tall and see the world in a picturesque manner. I am the final ingredient of gratitude. I am the creator of scarcity, I am the essence of what make your experience special, I am--the pain of death. The end of it all.'
The Self stood confused, 'I don't understand, then how come people commit suicide?'
Pain stares at the self, 'Because they are no longer standing above me. like you, you are standing eye-to-eye with me, day by day with me, you used to stand with love above me and now the plataeu vanished. You're toe to toe with me, and I promise you pal, without the love to life, I assure you, I am hell of a worth of the trouble.
The self's sanity is chirped by just staring at the eyes of pain every day. Love is nowhere to be seen, love has only become a memory in the past.
Pain lights up his ciggarete and say 'Your eyes keep wandering at the sky above, searching for love as if you were searching for her remains. Have you forgotten that you created love out of nothing? You choose to love, you find a reason to love. You are stuck with me at this pitfall not because you want to be with me, rather that I stay here as a reminder of what life could leave you be, in order to leave me, you must find a reason to love, and the easiest as I see people come and go leaving me is that they make their own love to live. Go ahead, I will always be here downside watching you and be proud that you have been one of the toughest champ I know to have stared at my eyes longer than I could count the days have fly by. Living is never hard, it's only hard if you're stuck with me, suffering. There's no hands of love magically appear from your gaze, you just fail to realize that you the hands of love is the hands you made yourself, appear at your gaze. Until that very same gaze is what tilts you back to me, eye-to-eye, toe-to-toe. You sometimes forget how you've falen, but you will stray further from me and create the platforms to be far apart from me, not knowing I was there helping the construction of your sanity, the fear of coming back to me, the avoidance of unpleasant feelings, for you to find the pleasantness in live and ultimately to love living.
Wow I created this article in 38 minutes!