Darkness & Light
I probably shouldn't write this down. Evidence and all that. Not to mention it will undoubtedly disturb some people. Some of which I wish I could avoid disturbing. But at the same time, I do think about these sorts of things and it's somehow... wrong, not to give them some sort of life outside the chambers of my mind.
I was reading some Daria fanfic, the stereotypical 'major character commits suicide' storyline sort. And it got me thinking, as so many things do. But thinking about suicide is 'unhealthy' of course, which is why I shouldn't be writing about such things.
I could relate to the whole suicide scenario in these stories. Who would miss me? Would anyone miss me? (And those of you that are starting to panic now, yes, I know you would miss me.) Has my life made that much of an impression on other people? What would I want to say to the people closest to me and how would they react? And this last question got me thinking about something else.
I can relate to suicide stories because I have been that close to suicidally depressed. But I've become aware that not everyone can relate. That there are people out there that have never been that depressed, cannot understand it because they simply have no basis of comparison. And I as I mulled over this revelation I flipped it over and turned it inside out. The idea of not being able to relate to being that depressed is a foreign thought to me.
This is not to say I haven't been happy. I don't know where people get the idea that someone that has been suicidal doesn't know what happiness is. Often they do know happiness, blinding, burning happiness that fills them with unbearable light. But to know Light like that you must know Dark, the deepest, coldest, thickest dark that gets into every crevice of your soul. And it's in the depths of the dark, where the memories of light are the dimmest, that Death waits.
From my point of view Death is neither good or evil. All of us will meet Death in our own ways at our own times. To some it will be the End, they will cease to be and will never be again. That's a bit too final and depressing for me. For others Death will ultimately result in Heaven or Hell, for eternity. That's rather final too come to think of it. Myself, I like to think that Death is your time to figure out what you were doing all your life, shake off all the hassles of mortal existence, reacquaint yourself with the Universe and old friends, but in a less individual way than you do in life. The boundaries between this is me and that is you are more blurred in Death, existence less fraught with emotion while at the same time less emotionless and solitary than life. And when you've recovered from your life and have become prepared, you enter Life again. Reincarnation of my own particular stripe.
Ah, but I'm no theologian, I'm just someone that ponders odd thoughts from time to time, and those thoughts might be better explored in other rambles.
Back to the topic at hand.
Ever notice that most of the people that commit suicide have some artistic proclivities? They're generally intelligent, clever, curious, and even if their outward activities don't reveal it, inside they live. And living means embracing the Light and the Dark. You love passionately, you mourn deeply, you loathe rather than merely hate, you feel your emotions sliding on your skin... even if you cover them over when you aren't alone.
And I get the feeling that the people I'd most like to understand that, can't. It's not that they don't want to, it's just that they've been gifted with the more 'healthy', stable, personalities. I don't know if I envy them that, or pity them for not feeling the fullness of Light and Dark. And unless they and I end up in my version of Death I guess they'll never know just what I feel, and I will never know what they feel either.