Saturday, July 23, 2005

you'd kill yourself for recognition;kill yourself to never, ever stop


Why is it that females are more likely to attempt suicide but more males complete the act and die?


Perhaps the motive or the objective is different for men and women. I won't go into a sweeping generalisation; neither will I satisfy the ego of some woman who unwittingly shocked the blood out of my system by writing about her (though I think certain circumstances have fed that already). I just can't help but wonder -- why bother slashing wrists when you can hit the jugular at one go?

I just started re-reading The Unbearable LIghtness of Being and there's this part where Tereza is telling Tomas about her dreams of Sabina and how she (Tereza) is so emotionally hurt that she dreams of stabbing needles under her fingernails to transfer the pain from her heart to her body. Tomas hears her out and takes her hands and kisses the tips of her fingers gingerly as though they have indeed felt the prick of the needles.

Oh, how women love physical drama. We'd cut our hair, starve ourselves thin, suffocate ourselves in corsets and get varicose veins from wearing stilettos to feel worthy of the praise the world endows on the beautiful, lucky ones. We'd break dinner plates, slit our wrists and kill fetuses to put that excalamation point in an otherwise unaccented conversation that means more than it sounds.

Maybe I'm just angry. Perhaps I'm just frustrated that the one thing I was proud of having melted like a black, disfigured plastic cup in a convection oven and appeared unfamiliar, even disgusting.

And so it is...



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