It’s not for me

Tough topic with many people having many different opinions but this isn’t an opinion, this is just how it’s been for me. 

Suicide. 

I can think of four clear times in my life where I have no longer wanted to “be”. Four clear memories of me wanting to step in front of a truck, starve myself, cut myself or just simply no longer exist.

Every time I’ve had these strong thoughts though, I’ve never once carried them out. Instead my thoughts turned to how much I’d hurt my family and friends, how awful it’d be to have my housemates message my parents via Facebook (they don’t have their phone numbers) telling them they’d found my body. How my parents would have to clear my room out and find my vibrator – awkward! How hard it would be for people to understand why I did it. How people would feel guilty that maybe they didn’t do enough to help me.

I’m not saying this because I think I’m shit hot. By no means do I, but I do know from, recent experiences especially, that I am very much loved by a lot of people. And whilst maybe my soul would be free, maybe it also might not. Maybe I’d miss out on an amazing future I have no idea about.

It’s the maybes and the love that keep me here. It’s the inevitable possibility that things will be good, even just for a short time.

I hope that my anxiety and sadness will end some day and while I still have my low days I also have happy days. Dancing around 100% sober with my friends drunk, that’s fun! All inhibitions are gone. I’m free. Even just for a minute, I’m free. 


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