[Latin suī, of oneself; see s(w)e- in Indo-European roots + -cide.]
I've been reading inordinate amounts of Savage Love lately, and became acquainted with a tragic incident that took place last August at a fitness center in Pittsburgh. A man, sexually frustrated and disturbed, walked in on a womens aerobic class and opened fire, killing three women and injuring nine more before killing himself. People like this man are inarguably defective and sick, and the world would be a better place if such individuals could be content with simply ridding the rest of the population of themselves discreetly instead of needing to exact revenge on people who have nothing to do with their feelings of inadequacy.
This man wrote the following in his online journal:[A]ny of the "Practise Papers" left on my coffee table I used or the notes in my gym bag can be published freely. I will not be embarrassed, because, well, I will be dead. Some people like to study that stuff. Maybe all this will shed insight on why some people just cannot make things happen in their life, which can potentially benefit others.
I've seen enough of these cases to know what self-deluding garbage these people write. Everything's someone elses fault. But I guess his note how his bullshit about people shunning him and making his life miserable ever since he was fucking ten and how it even rained on the day he was born might make good reading for people interested in making tragedies like this not happen is really refreshing. At least this man didn't expect people building temples for him and reading his journal like a sacred text.
Seriously, if you've managed to turn your own life into shit with your shit Midas touch, just what kind of fucked up logic dictates that you should touch the lives of other people too; people who have nothing to do with you? This is what I simply don't understand.
Life sucks? You can commit suicide by yourself! Alone! Do it alone, people!
This man wrote the following in his online journal:[A]ny of the "Practise Papers" left on my coffee table I used or the notes in my gym bag can be published freely. I will not be embarrassed, because, well, I will be dead. Some people like to study that stuff. Maybe all this will shed insight on why some people just cannot make things happen in their life, which can potentially benefit others.
I've seen enough of these cases to know what self-deluding garbage these people write. Everything's someone elses fault. But I guess his note how his bullshit about people shunning him and making his life miserable ever since he was fucking ten and how it even rained on the day he was born might make good reading for people interested in making tragedies like this not happen is really refreshing. At least this man didn't expect people building temples for him and reading his journal like a sacred text.
Seriously, if you've managed to turn your own life into shit with your shit Midas touch, just what kind of fucked up logic dictates that you should touch the lives of other people too; people who have nothing to do with you? This is what I simply don't understand.
Life sucks? You can commit suicide by yourself! Alone! Do it alone, people!