Lifes Greatest Gift Some Day I Get to Die
Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living and, above all, those who live without love.
(the spirit of school headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2)
However sadly, many chronically and pharmaceutically-untreatable depressed people wont miss this world. Its not that they necessarily want to die per se; its that they want their pointless corporeal suffering to end.
The greatest gift life offers such poor souls is that someday they get to die. Perhaps worsening matters is when suicide is simply not an option, meaning theres little hope of receiving an early reprieve from their literal life sentence.
_____
[b][i]I awoke from another very bad dream, a reincarnation nightmare / where having blessedly died Im still bullied towards rebirth back into human form / despite my pleas I be allowed to rest in permanent peace. //
My bed wet from sweat, I futilely try to convince my own autistic brain / I want to live, the same traumatized dysthymic brain displacing me from the functional world. //
Within my nightmare a mob encircles me and insists that lifes a blessing, including mine. //
I ask them for the blessed purpose of my continuance. I insist upon a practical purpose. //
Give me a real purpose, I cry out, and its not enough simply to live / nor that its a beautiful sunny day with colorful fragrant flowers! //
Im tormented hourly by my desire for emotional, material and creative gain / that ultimately matters naught, I explain. My own mind brutalizes me like it has / a sadistic mind of its own. I must have a progressive reason for this harsh endurance! //
Bewildered they warn that one day on my death bed Ill regret my ingratitude / and that Im about to lose my life. //
I counter that I cannot mourn the loss of something I never really had / so Im unlikely to dread parting from it. //
Frustrated they say that moments from death Ill clamor and claw for life / like a bridge-jumper instinctively flailing his limbs as though to grasp at something / anything that may delay his imminent thrust into the eternal abyss. //
How can I in good conscience morosely hate my life / while many who love theirs lose it so soon? they ask. //
Angry I reply that people bewail the unfair untimely deaths of the young whove received early reprieve / from their life sentence, people who must remain behind corporeally confined / yet do their utmost to complete their entire life sentenceeven more, if they could! //
The vexed mob then curse me with envy for rejecting what theyd kill forcontinued life through unending rebirth. //
Then why dont you just kill yourself? they yell, to which I retort I would if I could. //
My life sentence is made all the more oppressive by my inability to take my own life. //
Then well do it for you. As their circle closes on me, I awaken. //
Could there be people who immensely suffer yet convince themselves they sincerely want to live when in fact / they dont want to die, so greatly they fear Deaths unknown? //
No one should ever have to repeat and suffer again a single second that passes. //
Nay, I will engage and embrace the dying of my blight![/i][/b]
(the spirit of school headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2)
However sadly, many chronically and pharmaceutically-untreatable depressed people wont miss this world. Its not that they necessarily want to die per se; its that they want their pointless corporeal suffering to end.
The greatest gift life offers such poor souls is that someday they get to die. Perhaps worsening matters is when suicide is simply not an option, meaning theres little hope of receiving an early reprieve from their literal life sentence.
_____
[b][i]I awoke from another very bad dream, a reincarnation nightmare / where having blessedly died Im still bullied towards rebirth back into human form / despite my pleas I be allowed to rest in permanent peace. //
My bed wet from sweat, I futilely try to convince my own autistic brain / I want to live, the same traumatized dysthymic brain displacing me from the functional world. //
Within my nightmare a mob encircles me and insists that lifes a blessing, including mine. //
I ask them for the blessed purpose of my continuance. I insist upon a practical purpose. //
Give me a real purpose, I cry out, and its not enough simply to live / nor that its a beautiful sunny day with colorful fragrant flowers! //
Im tormented hourly by my desire for emotional, material and creative gain / that ultimately matters naught, I explain. My own mind brutalizes me like it has / a sadistic mind of its own. I must have a progressive reason for this harsh endurance! //
Bewildered they warn that one day on my death bed Ill regret my ingratitude / and that Im about to lose my life. //
I counter that I cannot mourn the loss of something I never really had / so Im unlikely to dread parting from it. //
Frustrated they say that moments from death Ill clamor and claw for life / like a bridge-jumper instinctively flailing his limbs as though to grasp at something / anything that may delay his imminent thrust into the eternal abyss. //
How can I in good conscience morosely hate my life / while many who love theirs lose it so soon? they ask. //
Angry I reply that people bewail the unfair untimely deaths of the young whove received early reprieve / from their life sentence, people who must remain behind corporeally confined / yet do their utmost to complete their entire life sentenceeven more, if they could! //
The vexed mob then curse me with envy for rejecting what theyd kill forcontinued life through unending rebirth. //
Then why dont you just kill yourself? they yell, to which I retort I would if I could. //
My life sentence is made all the more oppressive by my inability to take my own life. //
Then well do it for you. As their circle closes on me, I awaken. //
Could there be people who immensely suffer yet convince themselves they sincerely want to live when in fact / they dont want to die, so greatly they fear Deaths unknown? //
No one should ever have to repeat and suffer again a single second that passes. //
Nay, I will engage and embrace the dying of my blight![/i][/b]
Comments (4)
That is somewhat the whole debate around euthanasia. And it is not only for depression but especially for horrible diseases that are incurable. But then the debate is whether they really are incurable. It is a bet of sorts.
I wonder to what extent you see death as the elimination of suffering and the idea of 'resting in peace'?. In a way, this may be similar to the concept of 'nirvana', although it may be unclear in some perspectives of Eastern philosophy as to.whether 'Nirvana' is a temporary or permanent state..
So, in thinking about your question, I am.left wondering about the nature of unconsciousness and nothingness as 'comfort'. Sleep may be seen as 'rest', as comfort and potential rejuvenation. However, it may be seen differently as an end with no further conscious experience.
It all ends soon enough.
If you have to check out early, I get that.
I had friends who chose that for themselves.
I do not know what you are saying about inability in the face of such competence.
Death and taxes. I prefer to pay taxes.
I find no romanticism in it. No mysticism. No wisdom. No redemption. Pitty the dying, not the living, dont mix them up ;)