Fear The Fire More Than The Fall

Please Stop. Read this carefully. Think about it.

The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of 'hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing.

The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant.

The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames.

And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump.
Not really.
You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.

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About Secret Stains

I wanna do something that matters, say something different, something that sets the whole world on it's ear. i wanna do something better with the time I've been given and I wanna try to touch a few hearts in this life to prove I was here. I apologize if I seem absent minded sometimes. Sometimes I forget I'm still awake and say things out loud. Inside I am beginning to burst at the seams. There are so many secrets ... so many scars ... so many stains. This is me. Welcome to my world.
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