I am okay. I mean, I may want to die, but I am okay with that. I don’t care about much anymore. It’s hard because everyone wants to help, kind of. They don’t want you to kill yourself. So they tell you how you have so much to live for, how they would feel if you left, how nothing lasts forever. I know nothing lasts forever. I just don’t see a reason to keep going, but I do keep going because I don’t really have a choice. What I wish they would see is that there is pain even when I do keep going.
share your suicide story
Report Post
Please log in to report posts
2 comments
You can’t blame them… There’s really no way for them to know what it’s like. I know this sounds teenager-angst-y, but it’s true. They will never be able to truly understand your pain, much less feel it. I feel for them, really. They are trapped on the other side of a gulf, unable to reach you, unable to help you. They can only shout encouragements and hope for the best. Understand that they make it harder for you simply out of their own helplessness.
I get it. They want to encourage me as best they can. I wish I could accept it, you know? They don’t understand that the part of me that hurts can’t accept the part of them that wishes me well. I am not fully me. Or maybe I am me, and they should just let me be.