Just read this if you are depressed

Just read the while thing its not that long

I'm not the one who wants to pull a trigger to my head or wrap a belt around my neck or swallow a couple too many pills or bring a razor to my wrist. I'm not the kid who gets teased and I'm not the kid that has to sit alone. I have friends and I have love and I have a family. Im not ugly or fat. I'm pretty, and skinny, and smart. I know who I am, and I'm proud, and confident with myself. I'm not insecure that my thighs don't touch when my feet do, and I'm happy with my freckles. I'm strong and talented. And I'm so blessed.

But nothing has to be wrong with you to find a bloody razor hidden in a retainer tray. And it takes no drive to find a rope hidden in a sock drawer. And nothing bad has to ever happen to you to look at a note on the kitchen counter written with shaky, nervous handwriting telling you that your brother can not handle it anymore. And you don't have to be bullied, or teased, or unloved to look at pale, dead, beautiful eyes of your brother. The kid who comforted you when you were sad or hurt, the kid who stood up to all the boys who broke your heart, the kid who did your chores when you were sick, the kid who never hit you back, the kid who walked you home when you were scared, the kid who covered for you when you messed up. The kid that you never got to see grow up and have a family, and kids, and a career that you knew he was suppose to have. Because he was the best person you have ever met, and will ever meet.

I was 10 years old when my brother committed suicide.

And when you are 10 years old a bloody razor means that someone cut themselves shaving. And when someone tells you when you're 10 years old that a rope in a sock drawer meant that they were going to make a zip line, you believe them. And when your 10 years old a note saying "I'm done. I can't do this anymore. I love you" means that your brother was really mad at your mom for not making tacos the night before.

But when I was 10 years old I knew that when you wrap a rope around your neck and hang from a ceiling fan you die. And when I was 10 years old I knew that when your muscles go limp and your eyes don't close, your dead. And I knew when I was 10 years old that when you pull on your brother's legs and arms screaming at him to get down and stop playing, he is gone.

I still don't get teased and people tell me I'm pretty, and skinny, and perfect, and smart, and funny. But so was he? Wasn't he everything I am. And wasn't he loved and funny and perfect.

Why was he teased?
Why didn't people like his freckles?
Why did people call him stupid?
Why did the kids push him into lockers?
Why didn't the teachers believe him?
Why didn't people love him?
Why didn't people want to be his friend?
Why wasn't I his friend?
Why didn't I notice his bruises?
Why didn't I ask him if he was ok?
Why didn't I understand that he was hurting?
Why didn't I hide the rope?
Why didn't I tell someone about the razors?
Why didn't I help him?

My mom isn't doing good right now. I can still hear her crying through the walls. She doesn't get out too much, not even to church that she use to drag us to every Sunday. I think she hates herself and I'm afraid to look in the retainer container because I know what that means now.

And dad isn't the same anymore. He doesn't come home some nights and when he does he is really really drunk. I think he blames himself. I mean we all kind of do.

I'm not really ok either. I really miss him and I want to tell him I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I always stole his candy and sweatshirts. I'm sorry I didn't help him and I wasn't there for him when he needed me. I'm sorry I use to make fun of his freckles, I have the same ones.

Listen.
I'm ok with who I am and how I look. I'm liked and loved and popular. I'm supported and comforted. But I'm not who I want to be. I want to be as I was. I want to be his sister, a sister. I want to go back and change everything.

But what happened six years ago can not be changed. But there are so many people on this app that go though what my brother went through everyday.

This is not a tumbler post.

This is not a Pinterest story.

I'm not making something up for views.

I'm not trying to look for attention.

I'm telling you that a bloody razor is not the way to feel something again. I'm telling you that a rope in your sock drawer is not your escape. I'm telling you that a note in your shaky, nervous handwriting is not going to get you what you need. Don't make your little sister that always teased you, or your mother that you thought couldn't think of anyone but herself, or your father that never paid attention to you look at your dead eyes. Don't make them scream at you to come down, and yank as hard as they can on your limp and cold limbs to stop the rope from taking you. Don't make your mother stop being a mother, or your father stop being a father, or your sister stop being your sister. Don't make people hate themselves, and blame themselves, and fall into a depression as deep as you are in because I promise you that they will.

If you ever feel alone or depressed or scared or hopeless. Please, please, please, please remember that you are perfect. You are beautiful. You are funny. You are kind. You are smart. You are loved.
My parents never really payed too much attention to Jack and there was never really a good dynamic between them. But after Jack committed suicide they were a mess, the first couple months I could hear my mom screaming at God to bring her baby back and how sorry and stupid she was. And I could hear my dad crying as he took cold showers every morning.

You have so much to live for and so much to become. You can do it. It will get better.

If this is your lowest then this is the worst. This, what you are feeling right now is the absolute worst you will ever feel in your lifetime. This is the absolute bottom. But the beautiful thing about being at the bottom is it can only go up.

You just survived the absolute worst life could ever throw at you so why stop here? That's like getting past the big balls on the wipeout course and jumping into the water after. Your fucking incredible. At your age, you have gone through the absolute worst thing to ever happen and you are at the absolute bottom. So when you get through this, when it starts to get better you are so fucking equipped for the rest of your life and you can handle anything.

You got this. Hold on for a little bit longer, because soon, really really soon it will all be ok. Then you are so set for the rest of your life.

And hell ya you can have help, bro give your homies at http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ a ring or shoot them a message if you just wanna talk.

It only goes up from here<3

And bro. I love ya. You got this.

And side note: hmu if you wanna chat boo. My brother killed him self and you wanna kill you self so we have a lot in common so I can see a great friendship brewing. And hey! I was depressed and you are depressed so maybe we can bond over some coffee sometime.

Sincerely yours,
Skylynn <3