I’ve always bought into the notion that suicide is selfish. That’s what society, and random strangers on the street, tell you. After all, how could you inflict that much damage on your friends and famliy just because you didn’t want to hurt anymore? How could you only think of yourself?
But here’s the thing. When you’re hurting that deeply, when the synapses in your mind have been fried by trauma, you’re not yourself. You’re not yourSELF. So how, then, please tell me, is it selfish? To hell with that. My brother didn’t have a selfish bone in his body. He was generous, and kind, and always thought of others.
He had no idea what this would do to us. He actually thought he was a burden. He heard voices. Now, if you knew my brother, you knew how intelligent he was. He was deeply depressed, and anorexic, possibly shizophrenic. He loved us, completely. He was not himself. He was not selfish.