As I was rereading Antigone, I got to the part when she committed suicide and I was shocked. I was sad because of how much happened after she died, and how many people she hurt because of it. I was mad because she was so close to her goal, and she gave up. I went home and asked my friends what they thought the most noble act they could do for those they love, and they all answered to die for them. And then I started thinking about how often this happens in tragedies. People commiting suicide in vain, because they think it will make a difference and help the world, or because their own pain is too much. Dying for those we love doesn't accomplish anything. The same thing happend 441 BC, 1596, and 2016. I'm going to analyze all of these from a historical criticism, and what suicide meant in that time era, and how we need to stop romanticising death for those we love.
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