“So, let’s talk about dying.”
“What about dying?”
“Let’s talk about suicide, talk about people too young to die, talk about people who scripted their deaths and left holes in others’ lives.”
“Can we don’t talk about this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I want to talk about people who committed suicide.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Please?”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Let’s imagine a callous person – we’re only imagining that person, he doesn’t exist, no one can be that callous – let’s imagine this person. When this guy found out that someone from his school had committed suicide, he updated his status on Facebook, saying that he hoped the person who died is someone he despised.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s only an imaginary person. He doesn’t exist. Anyway, if you know this imaginary callous person, what’d you do?”
“I’m not sure –"
“What’d you do? To this person who hoped that his dead schoolmate is someone he despised?”
“I think he deserves to be castrated..?”
“Castration, that’s all? It doesn’t seem severe enough. IMHO.”
“Maybe something more severe, like – “
“What?”
“I’m not sure. Just something more severe. Maybe he ought to be Stomped. Wait, who is the person who passed away? Do you know him?”
“Well, sort of. I don’t know him well enough, I supposed. You know what makes this worse? He didn’t die from an illness or accident. He chose to die. He scripted his own death. He chose it. Why, why, why?”
“Well, calm down, be –“
“Well, I don’t want to be calm! I want to be angry, to be furious, to self-destruct, to hide somewhere and snivel. Why didn’t he turn to us, any of us? His friends from high school, junior college? His classmates from university, his confidantes from the poetry writing class? His professors? People who love him? We are all around. Why, WHY?”
“Life can be unpredictable, huh?”
“Enough with this philosophical bullshit, honestly. Don’t exploit his death to spread messages about life and love. It’s sickening."
"I... ..."
"And he told me, he told me that he wanted to get a PhD in pol science. He told me that. How could he just leave without his PhD? How?”
“I... Oh, look, look at that professor. His nose is so sharp. I bet if his head’s cut off and stuffed, his nose would make a good coat-hanger.”
“I’m afraid that this isn’t funny, not at all.”
“What about dying?”
“Let’s talk about suicide, talk about people too young to die, talk about people who scripted their deaths and left holes in others’ lives.”
“Can we don’t talk about this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I want to talk about people who committed suicide.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Please?”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Let’s imagine a callous person – we’re only imagining that person, he doesn’t exist, no one can be that callous – let’s imagine this person. When this guy found out that someone from his school had committed suicide, he updated his status on Facebook, saying that he hoped the person who died is someone he despised.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s only an imaginary person. He doesn’t exist. Anyway, if you know this imaginary callous person, what’d you do?”
“I’m not sure –"
“What’d you do? To this person who hoped that his dead schoolmate is someone he despised?”
“I think he deserves to be castrated..?”
“Castration, that’s all? It doesn’t seem severe enough. IMHO.”
“Maybe something more severe, like – “
“What?”
“I’m not sure. Just something more severe. Maybe he ought to be Stomped. Wait, who is the person who passed away? Do you know him?”
“Well, sort of. I don’t know him well enough, I supposed. You know what makes this worse? He didn’t die from an illness or accident. He chose to die. He scripted his own death. He chose it. Why, why, why?”
“Well, calm down, be –“
“Well, I don’t want to be calm! I want to be angry, to be furious, to self-destruct, to hide somewhere and snivel. Why didn’t he turn to us, any of us? His friends from high school, junior college? His classmates from university, his confidantes from the poetry writing class? His professors? People who love him? We are all around. Why, WHY?”
“Life can be unpredictable, huh?”
“Enough with this philosophical bullshit, honestly. Don’t exploit his death to spread messages about life and love. It’s sickening."
"I... ..."
"And he told me, he told me that he wanted to get a PhD in pol science. He told me that. How could he just leave without his PhD? How?”
“I... Oh, look, look at that professor. His nose is so sharp. I bet if his head’s cut off and stuffed, his nose would make a good coat-hanger.”
“I’m afraid that this isn’t funny, not at all.”
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