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O Me! O Life!
By Walt Whitman
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
Goodbye Mork.
You will be missed.
That has got to be just hellish to face. You are perfectly fine but you know the clock is ticking and there's not anything to be done. I think suicide is sad but if that's how he chose to deal with it then who am I to judge? I saw this in some of the people when I went through treatment. No matter the cost they want to keep final control. It may not be as overt as chewing a gun barrel, instead they may not stop that three-pack-a-day habit or start skipping the doc visits. End result is the same and it's acceptable to them individually because it's their decision to make and sometimes that's all you have.Yep, neurodegenerative diseases suck.