The Shoat Statements

Random musings by the multiple voices inside my head.

Was reading up on suicides. Don't ask me why. Came upon this interesting site. Perhaps the most interesting thing it said was that suicide is not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain.

I found that extremely interesting, and very well put. It went on to say that the best way to avoid suicide is to increase your resources for coping, and some such in the same vein. Anyways. What caught me was the resources for coping bit. It so very well describes the exact situation so many of us find ourselves in. We have so much shit thrown at us, and not only don't we know what to do, we also have no one to turn to.

It also pointed out (quite accurately), how uncomfortable the idea of suicide makes other people. And how that anger or belittlement just adds to your frustrations, as opposed to relieving them.

All in all, I don't think I've ever come across a site/place/person who actually said suicide was ok. Of course, the site gives umpteen ways to prevent it, but it somehow didn't treat suicide has a huge stigma, or taboo topic.

Anyways, feels good to finally come across some honesty, even if it's on a website.

A fool's paradise aptly describes my world. And I, the fool.

When I started out in life, I'm not quite sure what I was expecting, either from this world or the people inhabiting it. But in the recent past, I seem to have done a mighty wonderful job in deceiving myself about all the important things, events and people in my life. I'm supposed to be smart person - in fact, by all accounts, I'm supposed to be smarter than your average Joe. Clearly, I'm not. Makes sense, then, that I eventually pay for my hubris.

I amaze myself by my incredible ability not to see what is right in front of my nose; even after suffering third degree burns, I still seem quite unable to realise the danger of fire.

I cling, like a fool, on to hope when all hope is clearly lost. I make plans when it is futile. I actually have the audacity to think that I can change people, when I do not seem to have the strength to even change myself.

It'll be better tomorrow. Or the day after. Next week. Next month. The month after that. But it never is, is it? And yet, I the fool actually believes the revolving calendar holds hope. A revolving deadline to postpone the eventual unhappy truth, is all it is.

Funny thing is, it isn't even a very nice paradise that I've buried myself in. And yet I refuse to leave. Fear of greater misery making me hold onto this one? I don't know. Whatever the reason, I'm sure it'll end up making me the fool, which sort of fits in perfectly.

It's my birthday next month. Since I'm quite certain that the day will bring nothing but three phone calls and bushels of misery, perhaps it'll give me the push to leave this paradise.

But here I go again, hoping. When I shouldn't even count on myself.

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Be true to your heart, and true to your conscience.

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