Weirdly, this is the second time today I was reminded of the poem Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson - and it's only 5 AM.
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
I think there's a difference between having a support network to share your emotions with and demanding that the world change. I can't really imagine the author being any healthier having published this article.
> Some of the people I respect the most have had extremely negatives experiences but mention them only with great reluctance. There's something about that that seems right.
This reminds me of the recurring story of the apparently happy upbeat person committing suicide to the surprise of almost everyone around them. Hiding your demons to survive and overcompensating chasing respect and accomplishments is one way to cope, this sometimes results in a quality life, other times it is just masked suffering. Promoting this ethic can be extremely toxic trapping people, especially if from childhood, into being afraid of letting anybody know about their problems.