... *evil* writing advice?

Mwa ha ha.

Don't worry. There's a happy ending.

Feeling suicidal gives you, paradoxically, a kind of power. You're in a kind of end-of-the-world, anything-goes state: all bets are off, no rules apply.

For many people this would probably mean an orgy of unwise sex, drinking, drugs, and generally crazy self-destructive adventure. For me it's more like "Hey! Let's blow off the gym, go to the mall instead, and buy a Spirograph! Yeah!"

There's more, though. A mate reckons suicide is, in part, an expression of anger. It's rage flowing in the wrong direction. We turn our urge to damage and destroy in on ourselves.

O my little cyberbullies, you should never pick on someone when they're suicidal. Not because they might do away with themselves, leaving you scarred for life with guilt. Because they're in the mood to wreck something, and it might as well be you.

I'm saved again and again as my pain turns itself into rage. Thanks for helping, you sad little turds.

(no subject)

Feeling rather better for all your kind words, and also because Jon kicked my butt to the gym. :-) Nothing like the combination of serotonin and endorphins to correct yer dodgy brane chemistry.

As thanks to you all, I present: Slack Power.

Self, age 4, 1972

On my left, my little brother, Andrew aka the Ant aka irritant01.