We are afraid not of dying but of stopping living.
"When you are about to die, your whole life is rumoured to pass in front of your eyes. But not always. When you are about to kill yourself, all you think of are the worst mistakes of your life. All those things that could have been perfect but just weren’t and led inexorably to this edge. Because you don’t need a scrapbook when you kill yourself. You need the courage to tell yourself that you have no other option. You need to close your eyes to all the good things in the world and just let go. Most suicide attempts are people killing themselves because it is easier than having to live a life that they think is not worth living. All you have to do is hear them out because all they need to do is hear themselves utter those stupid words - "my life is not worth living". But listening is what everyone in our line of work does. I am not here because I am good at listening. I am here because in an unusual profession, I am exceptional. Most of you think that most people who call us are already saved. Because they wouldn't have called us if they really wanted to die. And that all people who call us are essentially sane but just on the wobble a bit and the right nudge will put them right back on track, because, again, why else would they call us? Let me save you some disillusionment and tell you that both these assumptions are wrong. Although they may appear true for the general, there is no dearth of exceptions. In fact it is in handling the exceptions that the real art of our work lies. Or any work for that matter. Let me cut the philosophy out too and tell you candidly. There are loons out there. And they are not few in number. Now when I say loon…"
Just as the suited guy on the stage finished uttering “loon” with barely hidden relish, a youngish man, who was unkempt, in a way that indicated that both his clothes and his wallet had seen cleaner and more filled-in days, barged onto the stage. He stopped on his tracks a couple of feet from the speaker, just out of the spotlight. The speaker just had a few seconds to register the glowering face, the sweat dotted forehead, the bloodshot eyes that brimmed with ebullient fury as he saw them come closer and the dirt and what-looked-like-ash-matted beard, when the man started flailing punches the speaker. As the ‘young-nerd’ audience started to gasp and clamor at the sudden turn of events, while their hands moving with muscle memory, pulled out their mobile phones and tried to get a good shot of it, a few guys leapt in from the wings to control the attacker. They dragged the attacker off the speaker as the attacker flailed fists and feet at him screaming indiscernable words, most of which sounded like profanity. They threw him to the security guards waiting just offstage, who collected him quite efficiently and half-shoved-half-carried the hysterical show-stealer out of the nearest exit.