A Morbid Fascination and The Ironic Immortality of a Suicide Photo

From my cumulative days spent stumbling (the term used when constantly refreshing your StumbleUpon) I have acquired, as the title suggests, a morbid fascination with suicide photos. Not all suicide photos, not particularly graphic ones, it is just the odd one or two. The ones that I connect with, that say something.
I find that with suicide photos in particular there is a certain irony accompanying the feelings of sadness and despair. The victims tragic choice to end their own lives may be due to a number of reasons but it results in them dying, no longer existing. The fact then that there are photos of their final moments immortalises them in a way. It allows them to live forever, despite the subjects desire to no longer exist.

Note: Though this may look unpleasant in terms of formatting, the images I have included are set at the largest size possible, because I feel that we owe that to the subjects of the images. I dont feel that these images, and the lives and deaths of the people within the images, should be relegated to a “thumbnail” status.

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