Being Born
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- bruises
If you actually had the choice, would you do it?
- ceiling_cat0
no
- Jnr_Madison0
Probably not.
- ..and I inform my parents of this weekly.Jnr_Madison
- your poor mother.lambsy
- mattiaBK0
I doubt it!
- scarabin0
fuck yes. what's wrong with you people?
- scarabin0
all the flip flops getting to you?
- bliznutty0
candidates for suicide
- brains0
Only if I could remember what it felt like.
- Meeklo0
are you talking birth as in actual life, or birth as in religious awakening? everyone's answer got me all confused... you must be talking about religion
- CockDiesel0
I've done it three times.
- LSC0
yes, give me oprah's
- ceiling_cat0
I suffered too much, I want to dai
- PonyBoy0
of course... what scarabin said... both times.
- bruises0
Was just thinking about it and its the one thing you have no indirect or direct control over -- besides that final kiss off.
- gramme0
Of course.
- Affluenza0
Where would you be making the choice from? Some pre-life armchair at a pre-life clinic?
"We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Sahara. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton and graphic designers better than Rand. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively outnumbers the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here... You are lucky to be alive and so am I."
-Douglas Adams
- ceiling_cat0
If I ask someone to kill me, is that still considered suicide?
- depends if you are jokingribit
- or if they wanted to kill you anywayribit
- do you own a gun?ceiling_cat
- i´d let it slide, mercy killing and thatgung_hoek
- asking someone isn't suicide... dying cause they actually did it might be.Amicus
- gung_hoek0
The poorest women of Berlin
-- in a room and a half they expect thirteen --
prisoners, outcasts, whores,
writhe here and sob.Nowhere else is there so much screaming.
Nowhere else is suffering and pain
something one so completely ignores
because here something always screams.
"Bear down, woman! Understand? Bear down!
You did not come here to have fun.
Don't draw it out. Don't just wait.
Push even if you evacuate!
You are not here to get a rest.
It doe not come by itself. You have to press!"
At last it comes: small and somewhat blue,
anointed with urine and feces, too.From eleven beads of tears and blood
sobbing greets it as a salute.
A choir rises from only two eyes
to bear jubilation to the skies.Through this little hunk of flesh here all
will pass in time: delight and gall.
And once it dies rattling and meets its doom,
others will fill the twelve beds in this room.