A Plea Against Suicide

Good afternoon, readers. I hope you’re prepared for a more serious post. At work today, I was told an extremely heartbreaking story about someone’s friend who just killed herself, and no one knew she had any unhappiness in her life. I know it’s not suicide awareness month, and I know this is something that gets spread around a lot, but it really can’t be stressed enough. Please talk to someone if you’re feeling depressed, hurt, lost. Please find that one person who you can bear your soul to. It cannot only save your life but also somebody else’s.

I know it’s hard. I know you want to seem happy and perfect because that’s what social media wants. And it’s so easy to put on a mask. I know it feels good to hide behind that mask because you’re afraid to even look at yourself in the mirror because you don’t know who you are anymore. I know how much effort it takes to pretend like you have everything going right in your life, and by the end of the day, you’re so exhausted you dread the next day. And the day after that. And every day after. I know how hard it is to be completely vulnerable with someone because you’re afraid of how they’ll look at you when you’re done explaining yourself.

I know it’s hard. I know you don’t want to talk to someone because you’re afraid you’ll only burden them with your problems. Let me tell you. Out of all the people I’ve talked to in my life, there’s always been at least one person who’s never pushed me away because of my feelings. It wasn’t always the person who I thought it would be, but there is always someone. Because you’ll be more of a burden to them once you’re gone. Because they will blame themselves for your death. They’ll wonder why they couldn’t see your sorrow and torture themselves with what they could’ve done and what could’ve been.

I know you want to say it doesn’t matter because the sun will still rise, and the stars will still shine. Maybe they will. But the ones who loved you will never look at them the same way again because their eyes will be red and dry from the amount of crying they’ll never be over. I know you want to tell yourself no one cares because no one understands. When in all reality, they have no idea because you’re pushing them away so they’ll be happy. I know the demons taunt you every waking moment of your day. I know the darkness spins inviting lies to join it.

I know it’s hard. I know you think things will be better for everyone if you’re gone. But things will only be worse. Heaven may have another angel, but Earth will be without one, and we need all the angels we can get on this rock. I know it sounds easy just to rid this place of yourself. I know you think it’s convenient. But it’s not. No matter what you think, you’ll be robbing at least one person of someone they love. You’ll be robbing yourself of a chance for an amazing life where you could help someone who’s going through the exact same thing you are now.

Humans aren’t as unique as we think. We all suffer from the same type of things; we just need to reach out to someone. To anyone. Please reach out. Find that one person you know you can trust and ask them for a few minutes of their time. They will give it to you. Someone will be there. You’re not alone with your feelings and thoughts. You’re never alone.

I know it’s hard. I really do. I’ve been through the same things. I’ve been diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I’ve been on the meds. I’ve spent years crying myself to sleep every night. I’ve cut myself. I held knives close to my heart. I’ve wrapped my fingers around the handle of a gun. I’ve prepared myself to run my vehicle off the road and into a body of water. I’ve sat with a concoction of pills. I know what’s it’s like because I’ve been there.

And I didn’t magically get better. I didn’t correct myself overnight. It does take time. But I promise you, it does get better. I get to see that sun rise every morning with my own eyes. I get to see the stars shine even through the blackest night. It takes time. It takes patience and understanding with yourself. Every time I’m in a lowest of lows, I tell myself I don’t want anyone to feel the way I feel. That if anyone feels this way, all I want to do is help them. Be there for them, be a shoulder to cry on, just be a listener. Because all we need sometimes is for someone to listen. We need that reassurance we’re not alone. You’re not alone. I promise you; you’re not alone. So please.

Please find someone who you can talk to. Even if it’s just one person. Forget the masks. Forget this idea you need to portray yourself as perfect. Forget everything except yourself. Take care of yourself. Don’t let you be beaten by you. Find someone. And live.

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Emotions

A bleeding heart
A bleeding mind
Worn boldly on my sleeve
Yet…
The mask still hides all
Nobody cares to see underneath
Nobody seems to hear my pleas
Crying in silence
Tears falling in darkness
Weeping brings anger to others
Though I’m not sure why
So the mask stays
Tears leaving invisible scars
Untraceable self-harm
The world turns a blind eye
Fear takes control
Turns sorrow into paranoia
Am I cursed
Am I the problem
How do I remove the problem
Would others even notice
Should I remove the problem
They still can’t see beyond the mask
While my heart hemorrhages
Both sleeves permanently stained
Blatant, obvious
Wordless suffering
Endless torment
Can nobody see past the facade
My lies of happiness
My dishonest joy
Thousands of fraudulent smiles
To keep others pleasant
So they could never know my true pain
Though I desire for them to dig deeper
A constant conundrum
Of what I think I want
And what I’m not sure of
An exhausting battle
All behind the lighthearted mask
Except my heart
My bleeding heart
Sliced with depression and uncertainty
Blackened by hatred of self
Thickened with envy and lust
For the life I see in others
The grass is greener on the other side
While I forever drown in woe
Brought on by my own misery
I am aware
I am so painfully aware
Of what I do to myself
And yet…
I cannot break the cycle
I’m a poison, a lethal toxin
Killing those around me
Behind this mask filled with laughter
How can they realize it’s me
Nobody suspects what they deem as
The good person
But I will always know
Of who I truly am inside
A mendacious thief of life
A dedicated torturer of self
And a perfect butcher of emotions

Lines from a Bleeding Heart

Never picturing solitude
Not with promises
People swore
Now those closest
Are furthest away
Those depended on
Are no longer there
Those who listened
No longer hear
I never understand
Why false promises are made
Does no one truly care
Is that why they’re gone
Are those really masks they wear
A heart is given
Yet never returned
They still flock to me
Pouring out their souls
Help them set problems free
Living can be hard
Everyone knows
Yet when it comes to individual strife
The empathetic are tossed away
Pitched like the trash of life
Is it asking too much
For someone to be supportive
But it returns to care
And honesty behind it
Would anyone dare
To reach out to one in need
Who gave so much love
When others called for it
So it could be done for them
Though they never admit
How they failed
Their human support
Now the empathetic is gone
They have indefinitely lost
The other ultimately won

The Bond of Friendship

I had a friend once. A best friend. We knew from the beginning we would be bound to each other for eternity. I was always happy. We did everything together. Walking, eating, sleeping. Everything. We were like a synchronized unit. It even got to the point where we could finish each other’s thoughts and sentences. One never went anywhere without the other. We were bound. But it wasn’t strange. Every other person had their friend. Then, one morning, I woke up. My friend was gone. The rope between us had broken. I remember feeling the frayed ends, wondering if it was an accident or something done on purpose. Now I have no friend. I wander the city. Alone, shunned. I keep to the outskirts. Keep away from authorities. Unless I find my friend, I will be seen as an outcast, no longer allowed in society. There’s a bigger problem, though. I have no idea where my friend went. I have no clues, no evidence. Nothing except for the frayed rope that used to keep us bound together.