Saturday, February 3, 2018

Life's a piece of shit, then you die.

I am always fascinated with suicide. No, not that I'm interested in doing it, but more of a wonder - one of our brain's main purpose is to keep us comfortable and alive so how can a person just decide to end his/her life? What is also baffling is the fact that some of those who committed suicide were rich, famous, talented, beautiful. Depression sure is strange. 

With everything they have -looks, wealth, talent, power, they still feel lonely and forgotten? They have lovely homes, they live in quiet classy subdivisions or expensive condo units, they drive fast cars, they eat gourmet, they buy expensive clothes but they're depress. While here am I, trying to make ends meet, who eats tasteless gruel for breakfast and lunch, who cannot even date a girl - or even bring myself in a fancy restaurant, living in a small, square cell in a noisy, smelly city district and I get my clothes on cheap corner shops yet still clinging to life. I'm not judging them, but I'm just bewildered why so.

Maybe life is a shit, but it's better to struggle with all the shit - lights, smell, taste and noise than to have complete peace… in the dark, dead as a door knob.

Poor people also commits suicide. You just don't get to read it in the news ofter.

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