Maybe;

Have you ever felt what a depressed person may have been feeling? 

Have you ever put yourself in their shoes and looked at life from their point of view? 

You probably misjudged them for being a coward...pathetic...hopeless. Told them to lighten up because there is more to life than what their mental health shows them. Told them that they are committing a sin. That it's not their right to decide when they should die. 

But you couldn't understand why...all you understood was how. 'How could they think about this?' 'How could they mock God like this?'

Yet, you've probably brushed past the shoulders of a boy who popped one too many pills and was found dead the next day in his bedroom. Cause of death: Overdose.

You've probably complimented on the hair of a girl who constantly tried to make herself throw up and had grown so painfully thin, that her body could not take it anymore...she withered away to an eternal sleep. Cause of death: Eating disorder. 

You've probably smiled at the girl who cried herself to sleep almost every night and sliced through the delicate avalanche of skin on her wrist...until one day the blade went in too deep...so she bled until death's shadow succumbed her being. Cause of death: Self-harm.

Or maybe...you said 'hi' to  the boy who sat in the corner of the classroom like a wallflower and who was bullied until....he lost all hope and tied a noose around his neck to end his life instead of bearing the pain. Cause of death: Hanging. 

Maybe you couldn't comprehend why someone self-harmed or dangerously put drugs into their body. How could the loss of blood help someone feel so free? How could drugs make someone feel alive again?

It isn't the loss of blood. It is the loss of what's within the blood. What seeps through the blood. There isn't just loss of iron or hemoglobin because there is more to a person than just science. There are feelings and emotions hidden beneath the skin of each individual person....not only this but there are words that compelled them to be brought to tears in the middle of class or in the darkness of their room. It's the word "Slut" said by the bullies to the girl who was a virgin and had never had a boyfriend. It's the word "Ugly" said by the society to the girl who starved herself to make herself look pretty. It's the word "Sick" said by the world to the boy who had just accepted his sexuality.

As for drugs, they don't make a person feel alive again. They give the person a rush of adrenaline that makes them feel like they are existing. With every pill and every puff of smoke, there is a why. It gives them a reason to breathe. To feel sane. Like a part of humankind. A part of something. People don't do it for attention or because it's cool. They do it in the hopes of feeling human again. 

The fact that people like this are living and breathing human beings, fighting through their own battles, helps them cope better when they have some control over something, even if it's something that can kill them, they don't care about the outcome.

However, it is not their reason to die. Nobody has a reason to die unless they are dying from something.

It is their reason to live. To survive. To keep moving forward. To Never Give Up.

Maybe you couldn't understand why people who were labelled as 'perfectly normal', committed suicide. People who had a family that loved and adored them. And maybe you felt the need to consistently let these people know that they should have been grateful for having a family that loved them, when there are many other people out there who are pulling through life, despite having no family or who are abused but are still surviving. 

Maybe you said the words 'it's okay to not be okay' because you only knew half of someone's story...even when that someone is really not okay.

But the truth is that it's not okay to not be okay. It's painful. It hurts. It pushes you to do the unthinkable.

These words can be a ray of sunshine for some. But what about the millions of us who have lost all hope....who have been brought to the point of ending our lives...despite being loved...despite having support. Would you call these people ungrateful or hopeless? Would you blame them for feeling so empty or sad, in a room full of people that cared for them? 

Or would you be another brick on the wall? Another person in this contaminated society who would judge these people, for selfishly ending their lives for no reason? Label these people as crazy...mental...psychos.

You don't understand what it is like for someone to smile at everyone throughout the whole day. Act happy. Act sane. When really, all they want to do is take a blade and slice their wrist open. You don't understand what it is like for someone to drown their sorrows in alcohol, smoke their pain away, pop pills to sleep, draw lines on their wrist to cope...exist like it isn't breaking their heart. 

People who jump off bridges, people who jump in front of cars, people who mutilate, people who contemplate suicide. They had hope once upon a time. They had a purpose to live. And they had their own reasons to end their lives. 

Maybe you've never put people like them into perspective.

Maybe you feared them because you just could never get your head around their outrageous idea to choose death over life? Life is more blissful than death...right?

But there's always a reason why they do what they do. 

And it just isn't easy enough for someone to open up about the demons that they are fighting.

Its never easy.

If you know people who live like this. If you care enough to make sense of them...to understand them. Sit them down. Hold their hands and look them in the eyes. Show them that you understand what they are going through....that you are with them, enduring through their pain. That you love them for who they are and that what they do to numb the pain that they are feeling, does not define them. That death does not define them.

Hug them. Hold them close. Let them cry, weep, sob on your shoulder. Let them talk....listen to them.

Maybe, you could bring back hope into their life. It isn't a guarantee that you'll make their sadness disappear and save their life. But, you could be the first step that could give them a reason to put away their blades, throw away their pills and start feeling something better than sadness. Lower than happiness. But, something that helps them cope more than the doctor who prescribed them with medication or the therapist that diagnosed them with depression, ever could have done.

You could help them break the wall that prevented the love from their loved ones from entering their heart and soul. 

Maybe if you listen instead of pointing fingers, you could be their reason to live. 

Remember, to truly understand art, one must pay attention to the detail before they pass judgment.

These people are art. Vulnerable pieces that can break with just a simple nudge. Beautiful creatures with silent faces screaming for help. 

But they are humans. They are not ill. They have as much purpose as you do to live in this world. To dream. To hope. To simply exist. 

All it takes is one person to understand them. 

Maybe the person that is reading this, is one of those beautiful humans.

Or maybe the person that is reading this can help heal these beautiful humans.

Whoever you are, I want you to know that you are worthy of life. 

Put your hand over your heart and feel it beating. Each beat represents your existence. Your beauty. Your worth. Each beat shows you how precious your life is and if not to you, to someone else. To me. 

Remember, that you are not alone in this fight and that there is always someone that will listen to your pain. Always.