Why do cockroaches die on their backs?

Yesterday I was sitting in my office, which is half warehouse/half office and a huge black cockroach started to run across the floor. It is in these moments that I remember most I am a female because I started to scream and reached for my handy Raid bottle.

He ran around in circles a couple of times and then he just flipped over on his back. Like he noticed he wasn’t going to make it or something. It was as if he just wanted to lay there and die.
My mother used to always tell me that Raid was cruel. That the bugs I sprayed it on were just in agony until they died, whereas stepping on them was such a quick death. More humane I suppose.

Someone jumped off the interstate bridge today. It was a man, I didn’t know him. I don’t know  how old he was or if he had a job or a family. I didn’t even see him really. I just saw that traffic was backed up and there were some police cars. I didn’t find out til later what happened.

He jumped. And not at first. The police were on scene when he jumped. My co-worker said that he probably was always planning to jump, but just waited for the police to get there.
But what if he wasn’t planning to? What if he was just standing up there to get some clarity? What if he was still debating jumping when he climbed up there, but then the police showed up and he felt an obligation to jump? Maybe he was afraid he would get in trouble if he hadn’t.

They always talk about committing suicide as if it is really horrible, which I suppose it is. Everyone deserves a chance at life. But if someone really is that unhappy and want to be gone that bad, should we deny them that? He chose that. He thought about it and chose. What if for that man staying alive was like having Raid sprayed on him. A slow, agonizing death.

I have had moments where all I could see is the bleakness of this world. I think we all have. A moment where you are looking inside Pandora’s box and forget that there is anything else than what you see in it.
When I remember those moments, I can’t imagine living all the time with that mindset. Constantly only able to see the horrors. A living nightmare.

I suppose I am just trying to make myself feel better. I always wish when I hear about these things that I could have done something. Even though I probably couldn’t have. I just wish I could have met him, reached out to him. Loved him.
I guess in the end I would have just felt worse when he jumped if I had.

I don’t know how to end this one.


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