Suicide May Be Rational, But it is NEVER Reasonable

Suicide may be the ‘rational’ thing to do.

It may be ‘expedient.’

It may be perfectly in accordance with worldly wisdom, and perfectly in line with worldly morality.

But worldly wisdom and worldly morality are incomplete for a reason.

The beasts of the field, timid and unreasoningly stubborn, and the birds of the air, flighty and frighty and whimsical, act according to instinct and the whole Gradgrindish, Dickensian calculation of pleasures and pains.

You, however, are called to higher things.

You have the choice to live in accordance with the highest reason, or with the shallow worldly wisdom of this generation.

If you want to be truly outstanding, even clinging on to dear, dear life is enough in itself.

Have you not said to stay a live would be a miracle?

Then be miraculous.

Be a hero.

There are many things in this world that you have not seen, and not a single one of us ever yet have dreamed.

You are precious, and you are loved.

Do not be blinded by the eyelids of clay.

The eyes of your spirit remain golden, shimmering, and resplendent.

The gift of tears means you have a very special role to play in this world.

How desperately, desperately sad it would be, for you to miss the beautiful things you were to do for others, and others were to be cruelly robbed of the devoted service and emptying-out in self-sacrifical love (kenosis) you were to bless them with.

Go forth, go forth, into the alleyways and orphanages of the world.

Go forth, go forth, and never look back once.

Go forth, go forth, into the hospitals and madhouses.

Go forth, go forth, and never look back once.

Go forth, go forth, wherever those who bleed, by wounds visible and invisible; where buffets and blows bruise shallow and deep; where cuts burn hot and frozen; where despair and anger wield their sceptre; where joy and peace of spirit seem impossible to find.

Go wherever you are called, and wherever you are needed most, and where no-one else in the history of time and eternity could ever once do the work you’re called to do.

Because it is in serving that we are blessed with assistance; it is in healing that we are healed; it is in delivering the bodies of souls and others, that we ourselves escape the judgment of despair.

For in the end, as so many have given out, and in return received it thousandfold:

When that day finally comes, we can take with us none of what we have received.

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Author: Wallace Runnymede

I've been writing satire for many years, and I've been published on many sites! Follow me on Twitter, and have a look at my books on Amazon! I've also had some poetry published by Sad Press recently: look out for 'Centrifugue!' I am also a founding member of the #AutisticDarkWeb: check the hashtag out on Twitter! Money's tight, so please consider dropping me $1 a month on Patreon (see link below). All my Patreon subscribers get certain benefits, including exclusive content, way in advance of anyone else!

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