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One of our common traits is our focus on our interests. I have several lifelong interests, one of which is magic (entertainment). Ten minutes ago I did a Wrong Planet search for posts on the subject which led to a rather long post by a depressed magician, posted almost a decade ago, here in the Haven.

Seeing an abrupt stop in his posts shortly after, I went looking for him, which led me to his Facebook page... and his suicide note typed just before he followed through. Three weeks after his last post here. He's been dead seven years now.

I've contemplated suicide every other day since I was eight years old. That's at least forty-five years of depression. It's not going anywhere. Neither is my life. I hate every day passing like the last, wasted, no hope of improvement.

So I get it. Suicide is attractive sometimes. Often times.

Why don't I? Well, because of the people I'd hurt.

in those dark times, when we think nobody cares, it's hard to see how wrong we are. Point in case, the magician above. He had friends respond to his suicide post, lots of friends post in the week following, and friends and family post in memorial for years after.

There's no easy answer. I haven't found a cure. 'Get help' seems trite. Still... you might blink out, but we're still here. People would be sad. Their sadness shows how wrong we are when we think nobody cares. People care. Some of them like you. Some of them love you.