I’ve always had this thing when I’m at the top of a building, a sense of just letting go and falling a slight vertigo as it so happens. I feel my feet slowly leaving the floor and the feeling surges through me for most of the duration of my stay. I feel slightly uneasy sitting on ledges, as if I’m going to lose my balance.
I have assumed for most of my life that suicide is a product of misery, that as David Foster Wallace remarked the pain simply becomes unbearable, but I am arguablly happier than I was a year ago perhaps more than usual. Things are going my way, my job is steady, the friends are building, a love life might soon be mine, but the other day I was sitting on a ledge and felt the feeling even greater than a I did before. It was as if I could fly, I wanted that release, to simply fly off the roof and die.
I think this might be a reason for suicide, suicidals are often elated, their unhappiness has come to an end, they have figured a way out of their problems or perhaps they’ve simply become so intrigued by release that they have to try slitting their wrists, jumping off rooves, etc. The jump promises an end to something, perhaps not even suffering, but merely a self. We have so many selves in a life, but so few ways to really destroy their cumulative experience to eliminate desire or perhaps even worse repressed desire. Jumping isn’t about depression, it’s about ending feeling entirely, destroying the means of the self, finding in it a negation we at times need. Flight is a means of merely getting out of this life, finding a way to somewhere else or maybe I just really need to go bungie jumping. =)