A loner jumps out of the window. Suicide is...

I need daytime just to have a good sleep and get ready for night. No one understands it. But I don’t give a damn for others opinion. Of course, I realize that it isn't normal to live at night. But what is normal then? Has anybody seen this 'norm'? Who establishes it? Where is the border between 'permitted' and 'prohibited'? Where? No one will answer.

No one will answer the question: “What is the meaning of life?” My meaning'isn't like yours. Most people aspire to eat their fill, to get a girl for a night, to ride a cool car. Is it the meaning of your cheap life? Who needs such a life? Does it bring joy? Not to me. May be 'the meaning' is to nail on a plate named 'I am John. A genius' and to come out to the applause of the dull crowd to say: 'I’m so happy that I’m with you! All I do is for you!' and to hear a reply: 'Come on, John. Go on living, John!'

Well, I don’t give a damn for your opinion, I have a headache. The splitting ache has shrouded the brain and doesn’t slacken for a minute. What do you know about the ache, when every single molecule in the head is pulsating and bursting, and I really can hear how my own brain grinds? In order to abate it at least for a time, I have to guzzle these damned pills for handfuls but it releases me just for a few hours and always returns as a new agony.

Recently two girls jumped off a tall building head first, holding each other hands. They couldn’t talk the same language with their classmates. The ones, misunderstood by the parents, despaired of getting own piece of happiness in this transitory world. Their broken bodies were found by grandmothers having a walk with their grandchildren. Such a sorrowful incident. Is this the norm? Children are our future! Look at them, admire them and pass by again. It is always the same thing. Do you know what are your children busy with? What do they dream of? What do they really want? You are a good father, aren’t you? Your wife is an excellent mother, isn’t she? Take off masks at last. It is possible that at the present moment your happy and joyful child is occupied with suicidal thoughts.

I look in their eyes on photos in the monitor. Why did they do it? What did they smash their doll-like heads for? What did they think about? What did they feel at the moment of death? 

I’m still alive. But the suicidal thoughts have been comforting me for a long time like a warm chicken-broth, which my mom so carefully puts by the keyboard. “Eat, sonny!” - she says and disappears quietly closing the door.

I’m an obedient son. Everybody thinks so. My brain is my parents’ pride. “We have a prodigy child!” “You have got a brilliant future!” “Guy, you are a brain!” Words, words,words which don’t mean anything besides those who say them.

I type “suicide causes” on Google. There are more than enough reasons to leave this world. People start looking for the reasons on Internet after suicide is committed. So what? Have they found any? 

Got bad marks in school, broke up with a boyfriend or a girlfriend, parents don’t understand, had a fight with a friend, had no money to pay off a debt...What people can think of to avoid to solve problems... If there is someone to help, they will continue searching for reasons anyway. They will accuse anybody of their misery except themselves. None of those is really bothered with the meaning of life. They have never searched for it. 

Suffering is a state when you don’t need anything and you don’t even know what you need. Your brain is like a damned search engine that keeps looking for something, and then gives links to the pages that can't be found.

The way the question is put is strange. The wording of the thought is strange. Is anybody going to live forever? There is only death after life. If you don’t have any real reasons to leave your life then just live. Baby, it isn't worth playing with these concepts. It isn't accepted in the other worlds.

You aren’t a cry-baby, a dweeb, are you? Don’t ask others what they think about that. Struggle for some more time. Are you capable of many things, aren’t you? Feel the real taste of life.

Does anybody really think he has the right to ask someone for help with such a problem ? Why to involve others? Death isn't so troublesome. Life is...And actually more interesting.

It is possible live as many days as you were destined to. Death is inevitable. He is a moment. A second. A flash. And then you don’t exist anymore. Don't you hear? You’ll become nothing. There is no way back. This is the only final decision. You can choose a sweater, a mobile phone, a car make, a husband or a wife, a country and a religion, finally, you even can change sex. And can change your mind afterwards. Have you ever thought that if you choose death you won't be able to get back life? My pain doesn't let me think, doesn't let me focus on the life. It's been eating up the insides for a long time. Do you know how many times I thought of stopping all of this?

So do I.

Once I saw a girl sitting on the road. Her long wavy hair scattered at the back and sparkled in the light of the sun. She bent of sitting and waiting for death like a lump of paper. Cars were driving her around loudly beeping, windows opened. Threats and shouts were heard from there. 

It seemed she went mad, she was paralyzed, no, she was merged with her terror. I'm sure she had taken leave of life. But she was saved. Two guys jumped out of a huge car, shook her shoulders for a while trying to bring her back to senses. Then they put her in the car, gave a cigarette. She cried there. She spoke and spoke. It turned out that she had no one to share her pain with.

I've been searching for an answer to this question for a long time. But the answer is always the same: why to live? Is there any meaning at least? I have found it for you. But for myself...

I need to know who I am. I need to know what I am here for. Who needs it? Too many questions, too many...

I'm having a splitting headache again. 

"Sonny, go to bed." - mom comes in the room and stops on the threshold at pause, - "You've got an important day tomorrow"

- Every day is important, mom.

- You're right, sonny

- Mom, I'll sit up for some more time. There is something I need to do.

"All right, my dear", - she wearily smiles and comes up to me. Strokes my hair. Her hand is warm and dry. 

The door closes after her.

"There is something else, mom, I must do.

Must find at least any MEANING among this all.

I'm confident: it DOES EXIST."