Some people say suicide is the easy way out. They say that by choosing to end one’s life is to quit. The reason they can separate this decision from say, quitting one’s job or pulling out of a poker game, is that the aftereffects are unknown and wholly ineffable to us. Many have religion promising something great if they stick life out, and most of the rest simply fear the foregone conclusion they have in their minds of nonexistence. However, if you lack these scruples or fears, then why is it imperative that one stays alive? There are many reasons one should stick something out regardless of if they’re simply enjoying something or not. One is commitment. If one has something like kids or a spouse that is partially dependant on one’s self, be it financially or emotionally, they have a commitment to stay alive despite their best wishes. They have made promises in their life, which they may now regret, but must morally obey. It would be immoral for them to kill themselves on this basis, not simply on the basis of killing one’s self as you would have them believe. There are also many reasons why people would simply not choose to kill themselves despite having a hard string in life and no apparent fears of death; motivation being the key reason for this. Most people have some sort of motivation that guides them through life. Some goal which lights their way, something they are working towards and trekking forward at. It is this that keeps them going; this that pushes them forward. A lesser form of this is simple optimism. Even if they have no concrete goal at hand, they hope that one will show itself. In essence their motivation for continuing on is the search for something to be motivated for.
Now, imagine a person who has no motivation. He is floating through life and has been guided by commitment and optimism thus far. He does not particularly fear death any more than someone would fear anything unknown to them; nor does he follow any specific creed that has any bad notions towards ending one’s self. He keeps finding a light at the end of his tunnel and that light seems to keep flickering out just before he can come across it. His Tanatalus-esque life, ever in search of something similar to a driving force in his life, bores him. Not to say he never had any dreams or motivation, he, as all humans probably due as it is our nature, did. The key point is that he did. It was beaten out of him. Perhaps he dreamed too big and then too small, the juxtaposition destroying any chance he had of creating normal dreams. Originally he was going to be famous. His mind wandered though, he imagined the interviews he’d have been given and TV spots he’d be on more than what he’d actually do to attain such fame. After this dream was lost he simply wanted to reach some sort of happy, or hell, he’d settle for content, sort of state. He never did, though; he was thrust into melancholy and boredom. Why bother to think there was anything more when so much had already dissolved right in front of him? He didn’t truly believe there was nothing of course, simply nothing for him. He also lacks any commitment that makes morality an issue when it comes to suicide. Not to say he is so much a social outcast that no one will miss him; no, quite the opposite. People are always coming after him, always asking him to do things. These people will likely miss him if he were to kill himself but that’s hardly a commitment. If someone has a job at an insurance company in Vermont and gets their dream job as a best boy at a film set in Vancouver, he will likely leave and his friends in Vermont will likely be sad and may never see or hear from him again but we don’t think of it as something inherently bad he is doing by choosing to go into the unknown over the reliable. After summing this all up, as our person has, he has no commitments, no motivation and no hope of ever finding either of the two. All in all he had all the ingredients of a normal happy person, because most people are happy. They may not think it… but you have to be really depressed to notice that people are happy generally; simply based off the fact they aren’t as depressed. He is also unsure as to what may come after he ends his life, but has come to one conclusion: It could be better than this. Emphasis on the “could” because he very well knows that he could drop into hell, nonexistence or be reincarnated as something else (He was hoping some sort of neat wild animal, or possibly a female, to see what life is like from the other side.). He decides, however, to take this chance and go with the unknown.
With all this described, would we consider this person’s suicide a simple cop out on life? Would we consider it him quitting? Perhaps, but at least a case has been made for the otherwise. If indeed he does choose to stop respirating, we can see the merit in it. He’s done playing this game, done being in this life. He fully accepts his consequences, has nothing he is working for nor anyone who depends on him. He understands full well he may regret this decision and be drenched in fire and brimstone, or may not have a consciousness with which to even regret, or have to go through this whole thing all over again. But to him, what’s the difference? It’s going to happen sooner or later. He may as well have a head start.
This dialogue was exactly what ran through Jack Hendrix’s mind one summer day. Jack’s main reason for not killing himself up to this point was because of the guilt he felt he’d feel from making loved ones feel sad due to his choice; but this is just what he told himself. In reality, Jack was just a pussy and didn’t have the balls to do the deed. However on this particular day he did apparently have some sort of cohones, or at least a lack of better judgment.
“…may as well have a head start.” Jack muttered under his breath that one hot, sunny, beautiful summer day. He threw his laptop on the ground and ran towards his door. He rushed it open and ran down the long hallway in a full sprint.
His roommate popped his head out the door, “What the fuck are you doing Jack—“ his voice growing fainter as Jack ran down the hallway at breakneck speed. He passed two girls also living on his floor who spouted similar comments as he brushed them by.
He saw the light at the end of the tunnel. He saw it, and it was bright and beautiful. The elevator opened up and a woman asked why he was running or something, he wasn’t sure, he had stopped listening. The window was open, there was no screen. He jumped straight through.
The free fall in that beautiful summer day was wonderful for Jack. He smiled a real, honest smile for the first time in ages as he felt the sun on his back and the wind of 9.8m/s on his cheeks. The pavement grew closer and closer, and in his penultimate moments he decided this was not such a great idea.