In my view, suicide is a blessing. I don't feel the slightest bit of guilt when I hear that someone has taken their own life. On the contrary, I feel a sense of relief for them — they've finally freed themselves from this meaningless burden we call life. An existence dragged through a world that has neither form nor purpose, upheld only by a consciousness that is nothing more than a neurochemical illusion, a trick of the brain that makes us believe we are "something" or "someone," when in truth we are nothing. We survive clinging to illusions, palliatives, substances, and distractions, all designed to keep us entertained — to stir up those few neurotransmitters we have left — just to dull the pain that never really leaves. Because pain, in this life, is a continuum. So honestly, anyone who chooses to end it has made a smart move: they saw the game for what it is, and chose to step out.