I tell people not to hurt themselves.
I hurt myself.
“Please don’t do it” I’ll comfort them, promise them promises that are false just to keep them alive a little longer.
But I want to die, and I don’t want them to stop me.
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I do it too. I tell people that self-harm is nasty, ill. But sometimes I cut myself, pretending it was my dog who scratched me or I have fallen.
And I told one guy to think about his future and his family instead of trying to shot himself or jumping from the roof. Meanwhile, in my head was an image of my wrist being cut.
Maybe we just care more than we thought. others>me
why do you want to do it? why are you trying to stop them?
Because.. I have no idea. The thought of somebody dying,when I maybe could’ve stopped them? Once, one of my bestfriends had been depressed for over 4 years, and she told me it was time. I told her my aunt, who’d died, would look after her, because I thought she deserved to be at rest. I don’t know.
One of the thoughts that keeps me warm sometimes is that I’m capable of helping somebody. Especially when problem is similar with mine. And what happens if I die? Probably, a man won’t hear a good word of support. And maybe he or she are more talented or destined to help a bigger amount of people or maybe just can become my friend.
But what happened with her after?
In the end, I burst into tears and rang the was one of my online friends who lived by London whereas I’m up north. They found her and she is healthy and happy. We don’t speak much now, but I’m so glad she’s okay.