So on the 24th of august 2014 i tried to commit suicide and wanted to so badly, and you know nearly succeeded but because of my brother i am still alive lol. We had an argument the day before and i stupidly realised after i had taken 35 out of the 50 i had laid out on my table. So of course because my brother is the only person in this world i actually care abt and know he cares abt me i stopped. And im a bit glad i did but not entirely because i still feel like complete and utter shit, i still have those thoughts, i still want to cry every second of everyday but im just happy that i managed to keep my brother happy. I saw how much me being in hospital hurt him and idk i dont think id be able to do it to him again.
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Your situation bears a haunting resemblance to mine; I tried to commit suicide, but instead got committed to a psych ward in a hospital. Stayed for about a week or two. I remember the look on my dad’s face, that fact that I’d never heard him cry until that night. Ever.
I have two other brothers that are completely problem-free, and then there’s me. It’s like at birth my parents traded in adequate/normal health for a slightly higher IQ (tested higher than my brothers, yet I’m the one with all the problems). I obviously know that’s not the case, it’s just kinda what it feels like.
The feelings don’t go away by themselves.
You have to starve them.
They feed on your attention, so ignore them.
Think of them as something alien, not a real part of yourself.
If any organism’s primary focus is to live, then something inside you that’s telling you to kill yourself would most likely have to be either (a) foreign or (b) just plain bad.
Either way, it’s within your best interest, as well as those around you, to ignore them.
Eventually, they wither away and die.
That’s all you do. Ignore. Live.