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Your submission to the caress of death makes you jury, judge, and executioner against all things, circumstances, and human lives.  No one ever had the opportunity to testify against Suicide.  He is above all things.  He will accept no consideration of the evidence against him.  No defendant has ever testified in his own defense.  Suicide allows no justification for what he has taken.

If you think that life has used and violated you through the rape of circumstance, you will find Suicide is the author of horrid, outrageous abuse.  Suicide is a sadistic user of lives!  He will abuse and assault your body with the ripping tortures of death, without mercy or compassion for your futile fading screams of agony!

You say, ‘’I don’t feel that what I am doing is being selfish.”  I suppose, then, that you feel that you are doing everyone a great big favor by running away, headlong, into death. Let’s stop a minute and take an honest look at that explanation from someone else’s point of view.

All those haunting memories that still speak from the Valley of Recollections were real people once.  They were sweethearts; they were wives; they were fathers—yes, they were mothers with children.  I knew each one of them.  Without exception, each one of them had someone who loved them very much.  The sweetheart left a disgraced and brokenhearted mother.  The wife left a husband who, to this very day, is bewildered by it all.  The father left the son alone, in prison, wanting a love relationship with his dad that was so overwhelming it destroyed him.  One mother left three groping young children who have been cast into the sea of vast loneliness that only their mother could quiet.

Selfishness?  Did not each one of these selfish, self-pitying souls feel that their self-imposed inflictions were so all self-consuming that they no longer held any responsibility for the quality of life around them?  What, in the name of God then, is selfishness?  “Without regard for others.”  That’s what selfishness is!  Go back and listen to the pleading of their memories!

Suicide can even deceive you into believing that the world would be better off without you.  What arrogance!  That is not your decision to make!  Are you so self-centered that you now have the ability to make God-like decisions for those around you?  If your five-year-old daughter decides that she no longer will ever want a mother to caress and to comfort her, ever again in her whole life, that is her decision, not yours!  Someone very wise in the ways of life once said, “No man is an island to himself.”  Suicide says, “I am the island, the sun, the stars, and moon.  I claim the power of God over life and all that is around me.  My selfishness has priority over every other person, circumstance, and God.  Self-pity must be satisfied. “

One voice of memory said from the Valley of Recollections:  “Oh!  My God!  How satisfying it is to feel sorry for myself!  How that craving chews and cuts its way through me!”  Is that what you want to say?  Isn’t that pure selfishness?  Another voice said, “I must kill myself in retalliation for his heinous crime against me!”  Only the Son of God, Jesus Christ, could bear the punishment for the sins of others.  Surely you don’t consider yourself a better sacrifice, do you?

What of that defiant masculine voice that spoke with a fierce hatred against the circumstances of life that had fed and nurtured a monstrous creature within him . . . a creature that screamed, daily, with resounding bellows of agony, fed by the passion of feeling sorry for his very existence.  He never saw that his existence was to be a father to his only son.  His purpose was to be the mobility, the outward expression of the uncomplaining sweetness that his paralyzed wife was given to transmit to a discouraged world.  Was it selfishness to deprive other crippled, paralyzed, wheel-chair imprisoned victims the hope of one who had found victory over enforced immobility? You answer!

Then, finally, there was that final voice.  A pathetic voice.  As though she had all her life been trying to break free from the encircling webs that spun their coils around her.  Yes, as though she had been irresistibly drawn into an ever-increasing whirlpool that siphoned her downward into destruction.  Hers was not a turning from what once had been.  For her, nothing had ever been!  Somehow, her life had never opened to the world around her.  The bud simply formed and constricted from within itself, ending in self-strangulation.  She had been a force for Evil against all whose path she had crossed.

Is there more to say, then?  Yes, there is more!  Suicide has many heinous sides!

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