I am reminded of Smokey Robinson's great lines about the tears of a clown/when no one's around. And of Edward Arlington Robinson's poem Richard Cory, a man who had everything, who "glittered when he walked," but who "one calm summer night went home and put a bullet through his head."
We cannot understand this any more than we can understand the recent decision of the Oregon mother with an apparently perfect life to kill herself. These people's inner lives are simply not visible to the outside world, perhaps even to their loved ones. One can only have empathy.
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Net 54-- the discussion board where people resent discussions. 
My avatar is a sketch by my son who is an art school graduate. Some of his sketches and paintings are at
https://www.jamesspaethartwork.com/
Last edited by Peter_Spaeth; 08-12-2014 at 09:02 AM.
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