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Dad this is Noah. I killed Mom accidentally. I regret it. Come home now please.

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Ok,. Just throw her in the grove. We'll take care of her later.

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"Our beloved Chrissy peacefully made her transition this morning. Christine Joy Amphlett succumbed to the effects of breast cancer and multiple sclerosis, diseases she vigorously fought with exceptional bravery and dignity. She passed gently, in her sleep, surrounded by close friends and family, including husband of fourteen years, musician Charley Drayton, her sister, Leigh, nephew, Matt, and cousin Patricia Thompson.

Chrissy's light burns so very brightly. Hers was a life of passion and creativity; she always lived it to the fullest. With her force of character and vocal strength she paved the way for strong, sexy, outspoken women. Best remembered as the lead singer of the ARIA Hall of Fame inductee, Divinyls, last month she was named one of Australia's top ten singers of all time. Chrissy expressed hope that her worldwide hit I Touch Myself would remind women to perform annual breast examinations. Chrissy was a true pioneer and a treasure to all whose lives her music and spirit touched."

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Shannon's suicide note -

As the saying goes, "by the time you read this I'll be dead." Caitlin has probably posted it by my request, or it's been posted as part of a dead-man switch. I have known this was coming for years, at times even hoped for it, and most of that time I haven't ever been afraid of it, although as it's grown closer I've felt equal parts dread and relief, with a little bit of panic mixxed in. I wish I could have lived much, much longer as there is still so much I want to do and see and be a part of, although in the time I had I could not have asked for a more wonderful life. I've had the opportunity to do remarkable things, see my dreams made real and changed the world and the lives of many for the better, loved and been loved, and have an amazing daughter who I hope will have her own wonderful life. My biggest sadness is not being able to be a part of more of it, and I have spent many days in tears trying to figure out a way to squeeze more meaningful time out of this life. There's just so much more I want to do ? and I think everyone knows I've done a lot. But not enough. If I knew my live was going to be this short, I would have pushed harder, not frittered so much of it away. I wish I'd seized every single opportunity, not just "many of them", thinking "I can do that next year." I've always thought that for me the "undiscovered country" was in the Star Trek sense of the word ? that is, the glorious future ? but instead I've gotten stuck with Hamlet's "undiscovered country", or death: "But that the dread of something after death, the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of?"

The last three or four years have been a daily struggle, beginning with a multi-layered pain made up of a never-ending, never-lulling dull throbbing from the core of my muscles beginning in my legs and eventually spreading out over my entire body, coupled with a constant burning sensation in my skin that made it impossible for me to feel anyone's touch without it being a bitter agony. I held out hope that a treatment for the pain if not a cure could be found, but every difficult diagnostic step only confirmed the degenerative condition replacing healthy tissue with junk calcium was incurable, and every new attempt to treat the pain only emphasized that it was inescapable. Not only that, but every day it grew. As impossibly painful every day of this process has been, it has been made more difficult by knowing that the next day will always be worse, and every day that goes by I have less defences against a more powerful foe. There was a time that I believed that I could cope with the unending pain, but then the pain's root began catching up to me as less and less healthy muscle tissue remained. Every day I could walk a little less. Carry a little less. Use my hands a little less. Bit by bit it chipped away at me. As I write this even standing up is indescribably painful, even sitting up, and the idea of walking nightmarish, although I have done my best to hide it and keep it buried. In addition to the muscles breaking down, neurological and autonomic problems have been creeping up, either because of the condition itself or because of the treatment. I've certainly said this before, but I don't feel like I have the strength to keep trying less and less likely options. My mind is the only thing I have left. This has actually been written over several months as I try and assemble it in small pieces while I have enough lucidity to do so. The remainders of my days feel emptier and intellectually lonelier ? I can't begin to describe the horror of going from a voracious reader and consumer of knowledge to someone who looks at a page full of words and sees only a hash of lines and shapes, devoid of real meaning. In any case, I'm done. I'm tired out. I don't want to do this any more. I have had a very good life, but it's not good any more.

I do admit that the closest I come to any sense of "life after death" is my nagging suspicion that we're living in a simulation? I don't know that I buy the statistical argument (since there is only one "real" reality, and a huge number of simulations, we are almost certainly in a simulation), because it makes so many big assumptions, but there are other convincing hints ? the quantized nature of reality, so of the weirdness at the edges of perception, and so on, to say nothing of how "special" life feels. If such a thing is true, I don't know if perception continues outside of the simulation. I doubt it to be honest. But thinking about such things makes me value both the unreality of existence, the interconnectedness of consciousness, how temporary existence is, and also how permanent and real it is, if that makes any sense? I do hope there's "more", but I have accepted the likelihood that there isn't, and find comfort in both. And really, if it's a simulation, I have no idea of you just blip out of existence and get your data set analyzed, or if there's some eternal being that actually experiences your life post-life, as if waking from a dream or playing a game, or if we reboot in some technological reincarnation. We're all the centre of our universe. That is, right now I feel I could be the only sentience in world filled NPCs. But if you're reading this, and I'm gone, well, then I guess I was the NPC and you're the only true consciousness, haha. Naw, I don't really think any of think on any serious level but I do enjoy thinking about it. And to be clear, as a "no doubts" atheist, I am quite firmly rooted in reality the majority of the time.

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Related Article(s): http://www.zentastic.com/blog/2013/0...la-commedia-3/

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