The End.

Suicide Note

Before reading this, I need you to promise to God that you won’t blame yourselves. It’s not your fault. If you can’t accept this, you may not read any further.

I love you all. And I know that I’m loved. I know you did your best. Thank you for that. But just go on about your daily lives. Please. Take care of your other kids. Take care of your spouses. And, most importantly, take care of yourselves.

I’m just so tired. I don’t know how I even made it this far, honestly. So count that as a blessing. I wrote this note so that I could make everything right before I left. So, hopefully, there isn’t as much of an empty feeling as there would have been.

First of all, I thought that I needed to tell you that I’ve attempted before. Twice. The first time was in middle school. I was in my room at my dad’s house when I tied a rope around my neck. Just as I started to see darkness, I heard someone coming. I didn’t want to end up in the looney bin, so I hurried to take it off. No one knew until years later. The second time, it was last December and I was at my mom’s house. I really felt awful and didn’t feel like I could make it to school. I was made to anyway. I grabbed a knife from my dresser, which had been there since last night from dinner, and slit my wrist with the hope that I would die. The knife was too dull to make me bleed more than a drop, so I put on a jacket and acted like everything was okay.

Everything hasn’t been okay for a very long time. I wish I felt like I could’ve been helped, but no one can help me. I feel alone. I can’t believe that everyone wants to believe I’m well so badly, they neglect my needs all because I’ve acted fine for so many years. Just because I’ve hidden it doesn’t make me fine. This has progressed until I moved to my mom’s house. Then I started talking because I knew she was the only one who would ever believe me instead of just writing it off as a self-diagnosis. By showing my symptoms and not just pretending to be okay, I felt a little better. But then everyone thought I was getting worse just because I wasn’t feigning mental healthiness anymore. I missed school when I needed to. I told people when I didn’t feel okay. And it scared the living crap out of everyone. It seemed sudden to all of you, even though it’s become normal life to me. So, no, trying to force me back into normality and telling me how “fine” I was before wasn’t the best way to go. All it ever did was tear me up inside.

Look, I know you tried. You made a very noble effort. So thank you. But it’s hard to see that light at the end of the tunnel everyone’s been talking about when so much stress has piled up that it blocks your vision. I got dumped by a guy whom I still love very much, I went into a mental hospital, I have an un-curable, lifelong condition, I have to choose between my parents, my best friend is so stressed out that I can’t go to her for help, I don’t have a therapist, I’ll have to be on meds forever, school goes on and increasingly becomes too much for me, and, to top it all off, my family (other than my parents) don’t seem all that supportive. So, yeah, everything piled up all at once and I feel like my hands are tied. Every single one of those things is out of my control.

I love you all and wish you the best. And I know for sure that you all love me. Goodbye.