I am the Most Selfish Person You Know (Don’t read this please)

I am not going to advertise this post. Actually, if no one reads it, that is fine (I’d even go as far as to say ‘for the best’). This is another post where I just want to put my thoughts down somewhere concrete where I can read them when I need to focus. This is the kind of thing I would write in a journal, if I cared to keep a journal. (I used to keep a journal, from my earliest struggles with depression, but even when I was depressed and rereading it, I was like “Ugh, listen to this angsty teenager. No wonder he feels that way.” Then I stopped doing that, as it was, at best, not constructive, and at worst, actively harmful to my own mental well-being.)

On the bright side, anyone who does care to read this will know (again) more about me than they knew before.

It is odd, too — I was thinking about writing this early this morning, before I had even read the news that a Dota 2 personality had committed suicide last night (http://www.reddit.com/r/DotA2/comments/2i2nb2/exdota_2_caster_commits_suicide/). Be careful going to that link, it actually contains a referring link to the person’s publicly posted suicide note. The suicide note itself has a stream of comments of people trying desperately to save her, calling every available service, trying to get her address, and then… at the end, just, flatly “She’s gone.”

As someone who suffers depression, and as someone who knows (rationally) that it is my brain being a jerk to me, it is still easy for me to feel weak. Things that other people are able to get through leave me a wreck of mental anguish. Something silly, like a project that didn’t quite go perfectly, and I am thinking about everything that went wrong simultaneously, and then I am a drain to the happiness of everyone around me.

I tend to have a very rational mind, and I pride myself on it; that may just be my ego, but my mind has proven itself time and again as able to solve problems that others have thrown at it as difficult or impossible. This is a reminder for myself more than it is bragging; I am able to solve problems, and it is a skill I am very good at. I have to remind myself of this in my darker times, mind, when I think I am good at nothing; if nothing else, I will accept that I am able to solve almost any problem thrown my way.

So why can’t I solve depression? I don’t know.

Now comes the part where I blow your mind with how awful my brain is when it comes to applying numbers to things that have no basis in math. Suicide, as a mathematical construct. There’s something you won’t hear often, surely. I have realized, in trying to write the full calculation down, that there are so many variables that I cannot eloquently write the equation (I’m not a math major).

I had written another full thousand words breaking down my equation, the variables, the values, and giving examples. It then occurred to me that without several thousand more words, I’d still have only the most basic elements of my equation. Suffice it to say, if a decision or the completion of an action results in a net positive increase in my overall happiness, I generally try to make that decision or achieve that action. There are (obviously) variables out of my control, so even if I take the time to try to make a certain decision or action occur, it is certainly not guaranteed the decision or action will occur.

The afterlife, whether it exists or not, plays a large part in any equations that deal with my own death. If the afterlife does exist, I will be in a position to see the outcomes of my action or decisions that lead to my death, and therefore the suffering of others will become very apparent to me. If it does not, the fallout of my actions is effectively zeroed for all future calculations. That is another of the many reasons I harp so frequently on religion; I am not confident either way, and I hate not knowing. I know I will not know until after my death, so it almost seems a fruitless endeavour, but I am trying to seek some sort of comfort.

Now to the part where I comfort you, the reader, rather than trying to comfort myself; no matter how I run the numbers, contemplating suicide ALWAYS has a negative or zero outcome as it applies to potential future happiness, and being as I would have to put effort into achieving even that zero, it is something that is never to me a realistic option. I can guarantee you I will never kill myself unless something happens that DRASTICALLY changes the numbers. That’s right, math is keeping me alive. How weird is that?

This was rambling, there is no intro, and no conclusion. Just things I wrote down. I’ll try to come up with something else funny to write so that I push this post down and no one even notices that it was ever here.

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