talk-to-someone-or-me

[talk-to-someone-or-me]

TW// suicide

You want to kill yourself?

It’s 10:53 pm on a Sunday night. You’ve already said goodnight to your parents and siblings. They think you’re sound asleep. You sit at your desk twirling a pen in your hand. You stare at the blank piece of paper as tears refill your eyes for the fifth time tonight. You don’t want to do it without writing a goodbye letter. You want to make sure your family knows why you did it. The tears fall onto the paper and you can’t help the frustration as the tears begin to ruin the paper. You crumble it up and break down even harder. You realize you can’t write the letter, so you look in the mirror once more and watch as your final tear falls. Only a couple moments later your heart stops and the blood escapes your body to create a puddle on the floor. But nobody is going to care right?

It’s now 6:47 am Monday morning. Your mother waits downstairs in the kitchen to give you your lunch money. She’s already late for work but she doesn’t want you to stress about making lunch for yourself. She doesn’t know what’s taking so long. She yells your name a couple times, but there’s no response. She has no idea your cold dead body is lying in your bedroom. She thinks you slept in, so she runs up the stairs and knocks on your door. But still, there is no answer. She opens the door and screams, horrified. She runs to you and holds your body. The tears seem like a waterfall, everlasting. She sits there with you cradled in her arms for a good hour, before she has the strength to get up and call your father. Your father rushes home, and they cry together. They pick up your siblings from school and try to explain what has happened. Your older brother runs out of your room and into his. He slams the door. He thinks its all his fault. He’s always picked on you, calling you names and starting arguments just to push your buttons. He punches his walls and allows his tears to pour out of him. Your little sister doesn’t understand. She asks if it’s because she always tries to steal your stuff or because she never leaves you alone when your friends are over. It’s hard to explain something like this to a six year old. But she probably wouldn’t care right?

It’s now Wednesday and your mom finally goes to your school. She hasn’t left the house since you took your life, but she knew she had to go. She enters your classroom, only to see the teacher sitting  at her desk grading papers. It’s 12:19 pm so your classmates are sitting in lunch. Your teacher greets her and asks where you’ve been. Your mother bursts into tears and your teacher is astonished. She has no idea what’s wrong, but she tries to comfort your mother. Your mom begins to explain what had happened, and your teacher starts to cry too. She begins to have flashbacks of all the times she yelled at you for not paying enough attention and not doing your homework. She thinks its her fault for being too hard on you. Your classmates return and are confused. A couple students recognize your mom and want to say hi, but they sense that something is wrong. Your teacher calls the vice principal and principal in and your mom explains everything. Everyone in the classroom is now crying. Even the annoying boy that sat behind you and threw gum in your hair is crying, thinking its his fault. Even the popular girl that wouldn’t give you the time of day is crying, thinking its her fault. Even the nerd that wouldn’t let you copy his homework is crying, thinking its his fault. They’re probably all faking, because nobody actually cares, right?

A week has gone by and it’s time for your funeral. Nobody has ever seen one this large. Almost every kid in your school and their families are here. Actually almost anyone you’ve come into contact with has come. It’s like a pool of black as one looks over the people sitting in the chairs as your corpse lies in the casket. Everyone goes up to speak. And after every speech, everyone begins to cry even harder. Even the emotionless jock is in hysterics. The funeral lasts many hours; nobody wants to get up, to move on, to accept what has happened is real life. All of them are just too lazy to get up, because they obviously don’t care, right?

It’s now been a month since your death. None of your family members have been in your room. The door remains shut. Your mom goes up to your dad and whispers, “it’s time”. Your dad looks at her with his lifeless eyes, nods, and slowly rises from the kitchen table. They enter your room slowly.  Just stepping inside of it gives your mother the chills. Your father holds your mom as she begins to tear up. He’s trying to be strong, but he can’t, soon tears swell in his eyes too. They begin to pick up your clothes, dust your shelves, and make your bed. The stain on your carpet from your blood has been covered with a rug. Neither of them go near it. They clean in silence for the next hour. They don’t care that you’re gone; they just didn’t want a messy room, right?

They miss you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Do you want to take that away from everyone? From yourself? Never get to smile again, or see the person that makes your heart skip a beat, never get to live? Don’t do that to yourself. You have so much to live for. If you haven’t already, do you really want to miss the opportunity to meet your true friends? Have your first kiss? Fall head over heels in love? Get your heart broken time and time again? Go to college? Get an A+ on that final that you studied for days on end for? Get married? Have your own children? What would you do if you walked into your 14 year old daughter’s room and saw her lying there with no heartbeat, surrounded by a pool of blood? It would be no big deal right? You’d shrug and clean up the blood as you hum you favourite song that’s been in your head for the past couple days. No. You’d cry and clutch her lifeless body in your arms and cry. Cry, and cry and cry. You’d think it was your fault and a million thoughts would go through your mind. Why would she do this? Is it my fault? Why didn’t she tell me that she was depressed? Why didn’t I stop her? How couldn’t I have known? But she was thinking the same thing you were as a child. You know, that nobody would care?

So think twice. Take a deep breath. You’re worth more than this. Nobody should have to think that taking their life is the best thing to do. Anything you’re going through is temporary; the feeling won't last forever. You’ll get through this. No matter how long it takes you need to know, you’ll get through this, and you don’t have to face it alone. There are so many people that you can talk to. Family, friends, neighbors, teachers, counsellors, hotlines, me, etc. I will be here for you, no matter what. I will try my absolute hardest to help you. So please; do not ever, EVER, write that letter, or even think about suicide. Life is full of ups and downs for a reason. It makes us stronger, shows us what we can get through. It builds and shapes us into the next generation of parents, grandparents even. You might not see the end of the tunnel yet, but I promise its there. You just keep walking towards it.

This isn’t meant to offend anyone. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I suffer from depression, and I have attempted suicide.

This was an eye opener for myself.

[talk-to-someone-or-me]

me: *breaks down crying in the privacy of my own home*

my brain: you’re faking your emotions for attention. you’re just doing this because you think it makes for a cool personal narrative