The word suicide is defined in dictionary as “The act or an instance of killing oneself intentionally”. It is an act which I feel can never be justified. A person who feels he/she has got nothing to live for; he/she has no dreams to be fulfilled and no promises to withstand.  Here are some of famous suicide notes written by some famous people.

All fleed-All done, so lift me on the pyre;

The feast is over, and the lamps expire.

Robert E. Howard, Writer, June 11, 1936

The future is just old age and illness and pain…I must have peace and this is the only way

James Whale, Film Director, May 29, 1957

To Harald, may God forgive you and forgive me too but I prefer to take my life away and our Baby’s before I bring him with shame or killing him, Lupe

Lupe Velez, Actress, December 13, 1944

I don’t believe that people should take their own lives without deep and thoughtful reflection over a considerable period of time.

Wendy O. Williams, Punk rock performer, April 6, 1998

They tried to get me- I got them first!

Vachel Lindsay, Poet, December 4, 1931

Don’t worry, it’s not loaded.

Terry Kath, Rock musician, January 23, 1978

It can clearly be noticed in all the suicide notes that the person went through a phase of depression resulting in suicide. It’s hard to understand why these people don’t think of those who are going to live their entire life in memories of their loved ones. How does a Father feel when his Son commits suicide? In any ways suicide has to be a crime but a crime where the criminal does not get punished for his crimes but it’s his loved ones who get punished in the form of grief and sorrow for the rest of their life. I have a strong feeling that someone who commits a suicide has to be a coward or else he would have found a way out of the struggle being brave.

Shakespeare has described suicide as an act of a coward. In one of his famous Tragic Comedies Hamlet he says, “To be, or not to be, aye there’s the point,
To Die, to sleepe, is that all? Aye all:
No, to sleepe, to dreame, I mary there it goes,
For in that dreame of death, when wee awake,
And borne before an everlasting Iudge,
From whence no passenger ever retur’nd,
The undiscovered country, at whose sight
The happy smile, and the accursed damn’d.
But for this, the joyful hope of this,
Whol’d beare the scornes and flattery of the world,
Scorned by the right rich, the rich cursed of the poore?
The widow being oppressed, the orphan wrong’d,
The taste of hunger, or a tirants raigne,
And thousand more calamities besides,
To grunt and sweate under this weary life,
When that he may his full Quietus make,
With a bare bodkin, who would this indure,
But for a hope something after death?
Which pusles the braine, and doth confound the sence,
Which makes us rather beare those euilles we haue,
Than flie to others that we know not of.
I that, O this conscience makes cowardes of us all,
Lady in thy orizons, be all my sins remembred.