End it all

Chapter Two.

So I know I said this is fictional, but I haven't quite reached the fictional bit of this story yet. No, I am starting with the non-fiction. The bit that made me begin writing this in the first place. Listen to me. My best friend was suicidal. My ex girlfriend was suicidal. My ex boyfriend was suicidal. My current best friends have both been suicidal. My boyfriend was suicidal until he was given a purpose. Fucking- I was suicidal. And the fact that so many people just close to me wanted to end their life at some point is horrible, because if you think of that in a larger scale that is terrifying. So many people take their lives to suicide already, if everyone who thought about it went through with it we would have so many less people on this planet and that is a horrible thing to really let your mind process.

    Look, everybody has problems. It sucks really damn bad. Whether if it is due to family issues, rumors, bullying, school, medical issues, death or pain of someone you care about, or a depression that you can't explain or give a reason for. But even if you don't have some giant defining reason for being depressed or suicidal, or shit maybe you are just having a bad day- you are valid. Hear that? You matter, and even if you are like I was at first and don't know why you are depressed or think about death or hurting yourself that doesn't mean your problems aren't real.

    When I first began falling into a depression I didn't know why it was there. All I knew was that I was always sad, and couldn't explain it. But it was more than that. I wanted it to stop so bad. Now, contrary, I didn't want to die. However, I was willing to physically hurt myself to drive away the mental pain. And you may say that me putting my story out there is begging for attention, but that's not what this is. Sure, I wasn't clinically diagnosed with depression, but what I felt was a valid reason to want to vent.

    So many people around me wanted to die. I  got to the point I found myself always looking at my friends arms and legs to make sure I didn't see scars. I would pay attention to their moods and body language to see if they were being distant or pulling their sleeves down commonly. I had family in the hospital, and with cancer. My mother had a miscarriage.  I had just come out as bisexual and had people giving me shit about it. I was damn bullied before that. I was set as a social outcast in the extracurricular I was involved in. I felt like no one would give a shit if I was alive or dead. In their lives or on the other side of the planet. And to make matters worse, at this point I feel that I was right.

    You see, I no longer allow myself to be depressed. If I'm sad or hurt I go to my current boyfriend and hope that he can comfort me, but that's not always something you can do.

    I am currently in the situation in which I have been terrified that my best friend committed suicide. She's gone. No one has heard from her in days. My depression is sinking back down again. It's getting worse. And that's my inspiration to carry on this story right now. I had been saving her for two years. And I don't want ANYONE to have to feel like the person they love most could be gone. It's not fair.

Please listen to me.
I know it's hard.
I know you're scared.
I know it takes every ounce of your strength to stay in this fucking life.
But please stay strong.
I'm begging you.
Because you have made it this far. You are beautiful, wonderful, amazing even when people say you aren't or when you feel worthless.
Keep your head up.
I love you.
I'm here for you.
I promise.