People are all over the world telling their one dramatic story and how their life has turned into getting over this one event. Now their lives are more about the past than their future.
The things you own end up owning you.
People don't want their lives fixed. Nobody wants their problems solved. Their dramas. Their distractions. Their stories resolved. Their messes cleaned up. Because what would they have left? Just the big scary unknown.
A minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.
Someone bent on suicide won't have much sense of humor left.
Which is worse: Hell or nothing?
If you could be God's worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose?
When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves.
This is why I loved the support groups so much. If people thought you were dying, they gave you their full attention. If this might be the last time they saw you, they really saw you. People listened instead of just waiting for their turn to speak. And when they spoke, they weren't telling you a story. When the two of you talked, you were building something, and afterward you were both different than before.
We just had a near-life experience!