Nolan96
Mage
- Feb 12, 2022
- 506
This interaction happens to me multiple times a day almost every day of the week.
Sometimes I'm not very convincing, and sound pretty depressed in my response even though I'm trying not to.
Other times I can't help but find some humor in the contrast between the fantasies of dying I was playing out in my head and the positive polite chit-chat that interrupted it, and that curls my lips into a passably convincing smile, which itself is kind of darkly ironic and keeps the energy up. But as anyone who has seen my contribution to discussions about humor with the user FC will know, I don't really like humor and I think it's generally totally inappropriate for suicide discussion or even suicidal thoughts. Like it invalidates all the suffering in the world. So unless my mind is really racing and can keep up a bit of a sickly manic tremulous upward track, this is usually followed by the mental equivalent of the roller coaster drop queezy stomach feeling. And when I'm back to staring off and wishing I were a smear of red in the base of a mortar being evened out by the methodic thumpings of a massive pestle, I feel even worse.
Sometimes I'm not very convincing, and sound pretty depressed in my response even though I'm trying not to.
Other times I can't help but find some humor in the contrast between the fantasies of dying I was playing out in my head and the positive polite chit-chat that interrupted it, and that curls my lips into a passably convincing smile, which itself is kind of darkly ironic and keeps the energy up. But as anyone who has seen my contribution to discussions about humor with the user FC will know, I don't really like humor and I think it's generally totally inappropriate for suicide discussion or even suicidal thoughts. Like it invalidates all the suffering in the world. So unless my mind is really racing and can keep up a bit of a sickly manic tremulous upward track, this is usually followed by the mental equivalent of the roller coaster drop queezy stomach feeling. And when I'm back to staring off and wishing I were a smear of red in the base of a mortar being evened out by the methodic thumpings of a massive pestle, I feel even worse.