To my suicidal friends:
I watch the stuff. I hear it. You know, those "videos". And I wish that most of it was true. . . . .
I wish that I was a valued person in this world. I wish that I had someone to lean on. I wish that I had friends. And a family that cared. According to those videos, they are your only help in this fight. (Like they'd know what this fight actually is. Gosh, you know, if I were to tell someone that I was gonna kill myself, yeah, they would surely say "No, man!" Actually, nobody wants the mess. The shock. Or even the thought of unpleasant things.) But I have no one. Maybe like you. That is largely why I am suicidal. Duh. Really? You bet. Know what loneliness is?!?
I never made it out as anything. I was destined for failure. I was actually led down the road to failure. But, you're right. It's my fault. Hey, look at me! I'm the Devil! Come shoot me for making your life bad!! Sorry that I was born. But according to those stories and other "helpful" help, I am the best thing that ever was. Not a failure. Not a waste. So, I shed the tears. But not the thoughts.
Everyone would cry if I were gone, and miss me. Yeah, I guess you have a point: unless they were psychopaths or sadists or masochists everyone would cry. Even though it is just for themselves. I should just reach out for the mockery, the scorning, the "you're such a baby", the-OOOPPSS-(my bad, forgive me, I didn't mean to put that in) the love and the support that I would never-WHOOPS-always have received if I would have just got off of my lazy butt, stopped crying, and asked for it. You bet.
So, my friends, this is how the story actually goes. I didn't go into detail about how it started, or why, but this is my story (in brief). Your story. All of our stories. The ones never told or not believed. The ones that are just the "same old, same old." But listen. Really listen. So there's no one for you. Nobody cares. But you care. You didn't ask for this. Or any of the sick stuff that is in your life. You want to be normal. Not left in the shadows. But look, people, this hell isn't forever. I would know. It, for me, lasted all summer (three months of the severe depression attacks, Mondays and Thursdays) and then it was gone. Three months of mad, racing thoughts of how to kill yourself. Three months of going mentally blind. Three months of faintly hearing "it's going to get better". Someone was there. And whoever it was. . . . cared. It is watching you, too. When no one else would give a darn, It did. It isn't a human. It is more. Whatever It is, It cares. Just like you do. And when you get to the other side of this nightmare, because It walked you through safely, you will be a super hero. A superior being. Like It. And you, will also be like that little voice someday. Because when you here of someone who is also suicidal, you will have authority when you speak and say "it's gonna get better". Not like anyone else. But like unto It.
Now, you must fight and pick yourself out of this wreckage that is your life. It will help. But it isn't easy. Since no person is here for you to talk to, you've got to talk to yourself. No, really! You will have to walk forward, one day at a time. Tell yourself that. Just don't stop. Because that is what the Evil Things want you to do. As well as kill yourself. Even though that doesn't always work, in terms of success. You'll just end up bleeding and the emergency crews will come and your parents will come and give you that "I can't believe you, you backstabbing brat" look and shed crocodile tears and your "friends" will just tell you of that party you missed and the list goes on. And if you do succeed, nobody will cry for you. They're just going to cry for themselves. But if you would just hold on, you can avoid the embarrassment and the harassment that this would cause. You will come out stronger. And even though the sun isn't shining at the end of this tunnel, guess what, a train isn't either. You will come out, not smiling, but alive. Battle scarred. But a warrior. Now that is something to be proud of. Something that no one can take away. Something that most know nothing about. But you do. I do. And so do some others on Wrong Planet.
So hold on, knowing that I will respect whatever decision you make. . . . I just hope that I could make a difference. . . .
The Clown
11 Sep 2015, 11:37 am
