So I’ve been suicidal for a long time, I usually get this way after someone has treated me badly and made me feel worthless. I attempted the first time when I was 17. I have been struggling for the past year and a half not to kill myself, I’m 24 now. Sometimes the urges were almost overwhelming.
For the first time in my life I started talking to my dad about how worthless I felt. He held me and I was able to cry for the first time in five months. I cried on him for five hours, cried so hard I broke out in fever and had to sleep for a day and a half afterwards. I feel a lot better and a lot less suicidal knowing that I can talk to him and he tells me kind things in reply. I even am thinking that I will not die of suicide now.
I had a best friend a year and a half ago and I could tell him everything and he understood everything and he was going through some really bad things and I helped him out so much. He knew a lot of people who had died. I know that a lot of people that I know would probably find a way to get over me if I died. Friends would move on and stuff, yanno? My family doesn’t do a lot of stuff together, nothing really. But he had known a lot of people who had died and so I promised him that I wouldn’t kill myself because of him, because I didn’t want to be another death that he knew of. That gave me a lot of strength.
He was a diagnosed sociopath. He could cut off all his emotions when he wanted and so he threw me out one day, after all the stuff we had been through, like a year later, just stopped talking to me, and he wouldn’t care if I lived or died. I was scared for a while he would stab me. I felt worthless, beyond worthless. I know that it’s his fault and he is a bad person and all that, I know that in my mind and that, I guess he was lying or faking emotions or they were real emotions but they he just blocked them out; I know it wasn’t my fault. But I…
Who would really know or care if I wasn’t alive? Would it really make that big a difference? “If would make a big difference to you.” No, really. It wouldn’t. I don’t care. I would have so much less to deal with. I feel like I had a best friend who I could talk to and he was different I thought because he would care and like, my other friends, I think, they would get over it… he said he did care and that’s why I didn’t kill myself and now I see that… he doesn’t. He is insane, he’d probably sincerely not care at all. I don’t know I don’t have that same purpose. I don’t know why I’m alive. For my dad? To make things? To, what? To what? I can’t just live for that. Why do I do anything? What does it matter at all? I just, I felt better when I had a best friend who I thought I meant a lot to, who I could talk to and tell my little struggles to and successes to, who was nice to me, who I could talk to, who said he cared and everything. I feel like I don’t have a lot of ties. I mean. Whether I have a lot of friends or not, It’s not the same, yanno? I just. Want a reason for being alive. A purpose.