I guess it's a product of these stressful times, my lack of sleep...my dry contact lenses...to expect myself to be feeling a bit bi-polar in nature as of late.

(Oh and also the music I'm listening to. Brad Paisley's "Whiskey Lullaby"...some good stuff there. Not my usual type of music, but listen to the guitar strings at the beginning...and then the lyrics. That's some depressing stuff.)

The other night, in my attempt to relax a bit, I went over my local bar and chatted with some random students there. Unlike me they weren't in the middle of exams anymore (who in their right mind goes out while they have exams looming? *ahem*)...so they were a little more cheery than I was. Just as I was lightening up and getting more relaxed, a woman came by and spoke to us about one of the foreign students there from Hungary...who had just committed suicide because she had been so unhappy, felt isolated and excluded in Paris. It was the saddest thing I had ever heard. Especially since I could completely identify with that girl...her name was Sophie...

I know the feeling of feeling excluded, totally isolated...music your only comfort. Apparently that music had also been a barrier for her...she used her discman to keep herself occupied and to avoid feeling lonely, but people didn't approach her because she seemed busy. I don't know if I could have helped her at all, but I wish I had had the chance to know her, to perhaps help her somehow...

When I first got here there was a girl in our program who was really homesick...however, in my own inability to cope with my situation I didn't realize how much she was hurting until she had already left Paris to return back to the States. I always felt guilty about that. I knew she had hinted things to me...but I was dwelling on my own depressive state so much so that I didn't catch the hints, and was in the middle of my own isolation. I should have reached out to her...

Ever since then I have always made all my plans in Paris completely inclusive...inviting anyone who seemed mildly interested, or didn't. Trying to make sure no one is lonely...even if I often am.

This girl's suicide hits really close to home for me, even if I didn't know her, not only because I knew her situation--had experienced it first hand, so could empathize with a lot (but not all) of her reasoning...but also because it really made me realize the finality of suicide. More so than any other story or experience...often somewhat romanticized, I find. This girl, this foreign student from Hungary, will never go back home to her family...she will never realize the lifetime experience she could have had here, pushing herself out of her comfort zone, forcing herself to adjust to the unknown, and overcoming her insecurities. She will never again interact with those other students she went to school with. She is truly gone. Forever.

To be honest, I have thought of suicide before, fleeting thoughts that were most likely the product of too many depressing novels and songs. But this really made me realize the finality...and stupidity of it all. You're selling yourself short don't you see? Not only yourself, but any hope of the future getting better...and even in the concentration camps, hope is what kept the prisoners human. Who knows what will happen in life. Death ends all the uknown. But what is known is one thing...you won't be there when it happens.

Now listen to that Paisley song. It's damn good. (And does relate...)

Anyway, as I was saying, "bipolar"...so let's call that my "high," and now onto my "low." As of late I've been feeling like such a poser. Again, this could be the stress talking...but I feel like I have not, and do not, accomplish anything. While everyone is working so hard, studying and learning. I am merely going through the motions. Sometimes I wonder why people assume I know stuff, or, really, am mildly intelligent...because I often feel like I don't know crap. That I'm only going through the motions of thought as well...For every one thing that I know...someone out there is a specialist on the subject, read a book, taken a class. Me and my "articles" of knowledge...I often just want to tell people the truth, like I'm hiding some big secret...look, I may pretend like I know crap...but I really don't know a thing. I'm really just pretending to be erudite and intellectual...it's a front, I'm a fake. I admit it. I don't want to lead people on. So I suppose that was my public admission there. One day perhaps I shall know enough about the world to feel comfortable in my own skin, to not feel like a poser when I contemplate a political issue...even if I am a Political Science major and "should" know it...

But, I highly doubt that I ever will.