Posted in Thoughts

The onlookers. The outsiders.

This is not my thought. I was chatting with my friend and he texted me this. His viewpoint made me really think about the consequences of some stuff….

The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘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.”

Author:

Phoebe A William has been dwelling on the face of the Earth since December 4, 1996. Her hobbies include reading books, day dreaming and sleeping at inappropriate hours. Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and Narnia are some of her favorite books even though every book she reads becomes a solid part of her entity. She loves to read poetry but is a novice at writing it but recently has tried her hand and failed quite miserably. However, you will find some of her wasted efforts on this website of hers. She writes down whatever she deems appropriate for her readers but in all honesty this website is a mean for her to write down her thoughts when things get to loud up there. She hopes to achieve countless readers for her work, but knows that some hopes are not meant to be fruitful. Nonetheless, she keeps on writing for her own amusement and knows that someday her words might actually mean something to someone.

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