P
Pat_Albertson
Guest
Ice, cold, exposure to the elements, that is how the homeless die. In recent weeks I have passed them on the streets, huddled under blankets and surrounded by trash they were trying to make a living on: pop cans, soda bottles, half smoked cigarettes . . .
My own fear of being homeless is one of the main drivers of my suicidal thoughts. I think I would rather take my chances on God’s mercy than on my fellow man’s.
No, I am not contemplating suicide, at least not at this moment, and I haven’t got anything prepared, but I sure think about it often enough. My finances are such that homelessness is not that far off.
I, for one, do not think suffering from cold is a laughing matter. I have spent at least one Christmas and New Year’s in a house without heat and power and with no food. That was before the local government took my house away.
I see them and I know that they are always taught with muscle tension from the way the body reacts to the constant struggle to stay warm by shivering.
This is also the one of the main reasons for my occasional thoughts about euthanasia. If the government, and by extension this society, can’t do any better than it does, then I sometimes think that at least it ought to have the common decency to offer to put the homeless out of their misery the way we put our pets out of theirs.
No, I am not here to push euthanasia, but I don’t think there is anything the least bit funny about contemplating suffering from the cold. We (mostly, but for an exception look at Jessica Chambers; this was due to a merciless thug though . . .) don’t incinerate people the way they do in some parts of the world (necklacing in South Africa, suttee in India, honor killings elsewhere), but we sure do let them die of exposure. I know, because I’ve walked right past it on the streets on the way to a job that doesn’t even pay enough for my monthly rent. And yes, I think I should have done something, but I didn’t want to wake somebody who was struggling to stay asleep, to destroy whatever slight respite he (or she) might be having from his exposure, and I have so little money of my own that I’m just too selfish to part with any. I’m not proud of my behavior, but I sure don’t think there is anything funny about the cold. It really is how people die, and right in front of us too.
My own fear of being homeless is one of the main drivers of my suicidal thoughts. I think I would rather take my chances on God’s mercy than on my fellow man’s.
No, I am not contemplating suicide, at least not at this moment, and I haven’t got anything prepared, but I sure think about it often enough. My finances are such that homelessness is not that far off.
I, for one, do not think suffering from cold is a laughing matter. I have spent at least one Christmas and New Year’s in a house without heat and power and with no food. That was before the local government took my house away.
I see them and I know that they are always taught with muscle tension from the way the body reacts to the constant struggle to stay warm by shivering.
This is also the one of the main reasons for my occasional thoughts about euthanasia. If the government, and by extension this society, can’t do any better than it does, then I sometimes think that at least it ought to have the common decency to offer to put the homeless out of their misery the way we put our pets out of theirs.
No, I am not here to push euthanasia, but I don’t think there is anything the least bit funny about contemplating suffering from the cold. We (mostly, but for an exception look at Jessica Chambers; this was due to a merciless thug though . . .) don’t incinerate people the way they do in some parts of the world (necklacing in South Africa, suttee in India, honor killings elsewhere), but we sure do let them die of exposure. I know, because I’ve walked right past it on the streets on the way to a job that doesn’t even pay enough for my monthly rent. And yes, I think I should have done something, but I didn’t want to wake somebody who was struggling to stay asleep, to destroy whatever slight respite he (or she) might be having from his exposure, and I have so little money of my own that I’m just too selfish to part with any. I’m not proud of my behavior, but I sure don’t think there is anything funny about the cold. It really is how people die, and right in front of us too.