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Robnson Crusoe and human isolation

There are stories of people who die by their own hand on occasion out of human isolation, they die
essentially out lonliness, terminally alienated, they have only themselves to survive on and as no man
is an island, that is never enough. I have seen such people with looks of resination that summarises their later years.

For some the siren calls of isolating yourself from human kind, of narcisistically islanding yourself into a form of self-anihilation,  To be immersed in one's undiagnoed descent is a path well travelled but  life is not romantic novel nor is eternal apartness some exotic boulevard. Why not look back luminously, retrace your steps into meaning, rather than looking forward catstrophically?

In Sam Beckett's Endgame

Hamm; (to the dsabled  Clov) Do you believe in a life to come 

Clov: (In a flamboyant mockery of his own state) I'm still waiting for this one.

On thinks of suicide as a career move an adulation craving calculation. Yet like all self revelations
motives are mutivalent 

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