Real nerds don't kill themselves

After a year's hiatus, you'd expect a nice update post, some banter about being an ex-nerd fast approaching 50 ... but this won't be that post.

See, it's been a sucky day.

A 16-year-old kid, the son of the little brother of a guy I graduated with, killed himself this morning. On the day after Mother's Day.

Selfish little bastard. I don't care how bad his pain was, there's no excuse for putting his mother and grandmother through that pain. They'll never be able to celebrate Mother's Day again without this hanging over it.

They said he got picked on at school. Tough. We all did. That's no excuse.

He had friends. I know he did. I know what they're posting on Facebook now. RIP and all that -- hell, no, I say. They're being much nicer than I think is warranted. He betrayed them, too. But I think they're afraid to say they're mad at him. There is a lot of social pressure in that group to be kind, loving, understanding ... even if that's not what you really are at the moment.

Funny thing is, I've been through it -- depression, being the weird one, not "getting" people, relationships breaking up, hating being a woman because of the physical pain, hating being alive because of the psychic pain -- and it doesn't make me more sympathetic.

Exactly the opposite. If I could survive it, then I feel like anyone who doesn't is an idiot and a coward.

Nerds know pain. And nerds are just stubborn and self-centered enough to figure the rest of the world has to put up with us the way we are, so there, nyah nyah nyah.

I do not feel sorry for healthy people who commit suicide. However bad it is, it always gets better. Always.

Wait it out. And if it doesn't get better by the time you're, say, 80 or 90, then go ahead and off yourself.