From the outside, it’s difficult to discern the difference between the splashing about in the kiddie-pool of angst and the struggles of someone losing a water polo match with oblivion. It can be hard to tell the difference from the inside, too, and many’s the person who thought they had a teensy-weensy substance abuse problem instead discovered they had a great big tired-of-living problem. Suicidal impulses don’t show up on the good days; they make their appearance after you’ve had a fight with your partner and they stormed out yesterday and they haven’t called and your job sucks and there’s nothing to distract you on TV and you’re coming down with a cold and you’re fat and you’re staring at your fat, worthless, useless face in the bathroom mirror and that little voice in your head says, in its most reasonable tone, There’s a gun* upstairs.
I do hope that Ms Winehouse has found the peace that eluded her in life.
*The rope, the pills, the rooftop, the razor blade, the drain cleaner, the torn-up sheet.
I have no idea who BigHank53 is, but I thought what he said was insightful enough to write it down in my little notebook. It sounds like he might know a thing or two about suicidal thoughts.
Today I was thumbing through my notebook and found it, and it struck me again as a useful insight. Whenever I stumble upon this sort of gem, I think it makes up for all the nasty, miserable, ignorant, trollish things that one mostly reads on the internet. It is sometimes worth pointing that not everything you read on the internet is “teh stupids”.