You're twenty-four, an
exhausted junior hospital doctor, shy with girls, and a loner.
The uncharitable say you're odd. Your choice of career has
turned out to be a bad mistake, Christmas Day of dreadful memory
is tomorrow, and your crazy doting mother, who dubbed you Simon,
for God's sake (literally) thinks you'll make saint before
you're forty – you, with not an unbroken Commandment left. The
fact is, you're a sad case. In no trumps, doubled. The future
promises only more of the same, and you can't face it. So what
do you do? You consider suicide, that's what. You're not the
first. You won't be the last.
|But how to justify it? Suicide is always seen as a snub to everyone else, but unexpected suicide is even less popular. There'll be recriminations, self-searching, guilt. Yes, once the shock is over you'll be harshly judged, resentfully remembered. Not ideal. Besides, how much was your fault in the first place? You are, surely, as your DNA made you – trapped, manipulated, condemned. A slave, give or take. No, its slave. What is the cunning little twister up to? And why are things are as they are? That's if they are. All your life you've been acutely aware of the duality of things – the fascination of the alternative, the romance of the opposite, the seduction of the flip side. Your mind begins to spin... (go to top)|