It’s a strange time we live in, and as a dispassionate observer it’s all quite fascinating. That is not to say that I am a dispassionate observer, but if I were.

As Louis CK eloquently articulates, “I don’t think life is that important. It’s just not. People get too excited, make a list of every shitty thing ever. That’s in life.”

(What’s the value of being alive? What’s the argument against ending it all right now?)

“You’re not supposed to talk about suicide,” he says. “You should be able to talk about it! The whole world is made of people who didn’t kill themselves today … life can get very difficult, very sad, very upsetting, but you don’t have to do it. You really don’t have to do it … because you can kill yourself.” 

Sushant Singh Rajput killed himself on the 14th of June 2020. This has created another hysterical outcry. Why.

Why does every incident, black, white, virus, fungus, man, woman, immigrant, lord, life, death, provoke an outward display of self righteousness, anger, contempt, violence.

Perhaps if we were to look inward instead these circumstances would not arise?

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