Take another little piece

This is kind of random so bear with me.

The thought came to me the other day that every time we think about killing ourselves that we are in fact killing a part of ourselves. Every imagined attempt, every longing not to be here on this earth, I think it’s slowly killing our hope, our chance at  joy, and our soul. I know we are all hurting or we wouldn’t be on this website and yet I feel we are here to look for hope, to openly express our brokenness without fear of being rejected, to draw the poison out of our systems. The desire to die is insidious, winding, and tangling itself into each part of our lives. Stealing little pieces of us until all we have is it, suicide/ our desire to escape becomes our only focus, our driving need. As I write this I’m wondering if it makes sense to anyone else and how much longer until I have no more pieces to steal.

Thanks for bearing with my ramble.