No I'm not contemplating it. But from a thiestic point of view, an atheistic point of view or just your point of view what are they ethical ramnifications of suicide? (Please no, there are none because your dead kinda replies.)
Hey Jack, The only ethical consideration related to suicide has to do with the people one leaves behind. If you are quite sure that no one cares about your living or dying, then the act of suicide is beyond ethical considerations. The subject of existence and non-existence rightfully belongs to Ontology rather than to Ethics. "Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional." Michael
Just a balance. On one side is your own pain and suffering. On the other is that caused by your suicide among those who care. It depends which is more important to you.
ok guys you may or may not know that till a couple of days ago i WAS in that situation (now i have cool little pills that make me happy) i can tell you for a fact that it FEELS like no one cares there is no rational choices involved here its simply a case of you having no hope It seems like there is no point to it all and no one would even miss you when you are gone
No I know exactly what you mean, I contemplated/came very very very close to suicide. Thing that really struck me was this dream I had, I blew my brains out in English class, saw people's reactions to it and even the funeral and afterward. What really struck me is no one cried, not a single tear and after the funeral life went on normal, I actualy assume that might happen if I were to commit suicide. Anyway, thanx for the input guys, keep it coming. Also what about theistic point of view on the matter?
Jack, I don't understand why the fact of other people not caring would prevent you from taking your own life? As I see it, it would be the fact that people do care that would make me think again before I pulled the trigger. Could you please explain? I briefly thought about hanging myself when I was sixteen years old. Well, I didn't really want to end my life. I simply wanted to get the world to notice my suffering. However, the obvious problem with using suicide as a cry for help is that once you've made your cry heard, no amount of help is useful. But I suspect what we actually want is to botch the job. We want to fail in our attempt to kill ourself. This brings the desired attention and pity, yet we can get up, dust ourselves off, and go on with our life. Life will soon enough finish what I had not the heart to do at sixteen. At sixteen I imagined the life ahead of me might feel like centuries. At forty-five, the life behind me feels as if it should have been measured in weeks. I'm afraid if this trend continues that the life ahead of me might as well be measured in days. Strangely, my life up till age sixteen seemed far longer than my life from sixteen till the present. Jack, you are just past the point of lift-off in your life. You are doubtless looking out the window of your rocket and wondering why the gantry is passing by you so slowly. You wonder how you ever will get into space at this rate. But by age twenty-five you feel the acceleration creeping upon you. By age thirty-five, you are roughly pressed back into your seat and are beginning to feel the first beads of sweat on your forehead and the taste of fear in your mouth. It's no coincidence that this is the time that men begin to have their "Mid-life Crisis." At age forty-five the rocket is vibrating like mad. Your teeth are chattering. The earth has changed from a landscape to a spherescape. I'll have to get back with you about the rest of the ride. Older men try to tell me what it will be like, but I don't believe them. I won't believe it till I'm there myself. Likewise, you shouldn't believe what I tell you it will be like. Since you are already strapped in, and the rocket is burning, why bother hitting the "Self-Destruct" button now? You might as well go for the ride and see for yourself. Is suicide ever of use? Yes, I suppose on occasions suicide is a welcome relief. Think of Rudyard Kipling's, The Young British Soldier "When you're wounded and left, on Afghanistan's plains, and the women come out, to cut up your remains, just roll on your rifle, and blow out your brains, and go to your Gawd, like a soldier." I've known a number of people who have done this. Pervasive hopelessness brought about by a threatening disease or a lost love, etc., often prompt a desire to end one's own life. Jack, you are correct in thinking that the survivors soon forget about those that prematurely have hit that "Self-Destruct" button. Life is lived by those that choose to live. We don't communicate with the dead. We look to those around us for mutual comfort. Dead men are very soon forgotten. They are nothing. I'll be nothing all too soon for my liking. Instead of a bullet to my brain, I reach instead for anything I think might prolong a healthy and happy life. I exercise like a madman, and avoid all the usual vices. Death is going to have to chase me down and be prepared to wrestle. Michael
Thanx, sage advice. Actually like I said though I am not considering suicdide and as you said Death is going to have to chase me down and be prepared to wrestle. I was just kinda wondering what people thought about it from an ethical stand-point. Oh and what you said in the begging, yeah I know I didn't really make that as coherent as I should. The dream/thought of no one caring helped further my desire for annihilation but now even though it may be possible no one cares I do not wish to end my life.
Cactus: I know how that is. Oddly enough, that's one of the reasons that I decided not to. People don't care? Oh, fuck them then. It was then that I began to stop living in order to please and take care of others, and became an egotistical bitch. Dude, we're athiests. As such, we know that this life is the only shot at life we are ever going to get. When I realised this, more or less, it helped me keep on. Believe me, you'll look back in a few years and be glad you chose to live. The other thing is, I know that I care about you. Even online, I think you're very cool, and you could really go far. I'm sure that others agree.
Thanx Xev, yeah like I said that I'm good now - especialy because I'm an Atheist you only got one shot so you might as well ride it out eh? But actualy the main reason I live is just for living, well I wrote a story on this for school of all things that might explain better. Its not very good I admit just thougt you guys might be interested: "Snap." The thin black cord tightens itself around my neck. It has no remorse, no feelings, no care for the crime being committed. The tears well up from inside, my throat choked off from their coming release. Then they overflow, break their dam, a deluge, a waterfall - a gush of feelings set free fro the first time. All my anguish, all I've been put through, streams down my face. I pull, yank, drive the instrument of self-destruction to tighten further. The pain, a dull choking sensation frightens me, and at the same time feeds my resolve. Not a sharp sting that burns as if a needle, it is pound of my Adam's apple taking away my air, that which gives life. A cool feeling runs over - the emotional manifesting itslef in my body, unlike the tingle as one plunges into an icy lake it feels as on a dry, frigid December morning. Like when you can feel the breath chill your throat to your lungs then see the white stream smoke from your lips. Everything in this life has been for nothing. I can't do it. I feel perhaps some fire; some blaze of kindling still yet calls this beaten soul its home. The world slowly readjusts itself, refocuses from the fish bowl view caused by tears. The dull pain of bruises forming follow as I take off my clothes. An absurd refreshing feeling comes over me as air hits skin. The feeling of soft carpet filla and massages the curves of my feet, then the plodding flap as I walk over wood, and finally the cold antiseptic feeling of tile. The water begins to run, and I enter into this steam filled palace. The shower, the one place man faces his thoughts everyday. A million pinpricks of heat rain down upon my body, covering me. I think of the feelings-those emotions I've felt for so long, as a wave washing over me and crashing to some unreachable shore. They have receded only to return. Out of this haze of heat, steam and thought some sound breaks. Something I barely perceive through the cloud, the phone is ringing... Now the sun blazes against its blue backing, the limitless sky... The stars, indescribable, are suspended in their endless space. I've come to accept my miniscule existance, and love my unimportant life. As water flows down my throat, as breath fills my lungs, as I perceive green leaves radiate and shimmer in a summer sky, I am alive. No, life isn't important, but it is beautiful. That's about it. Thanx Xev.
