"If you really want to your heal yourself, you should consider learning from what I did. I was once in this dark place but, the last 2 years here have been the best time of my life. I have made some good friends here and I am still not ready to leave all this behind. I have completely defeated all my problems and I hope the same for everyone here." Alex said. Then he stepped down from the podium. He had been "fighting" depression for the last 2 years and now that he had "won", he was leaving this mental illness and suicide ideation support group. I can't wait for the day that I get to leave this stupid place.
I never liked him anyway. I've been here for a few weeks and to me he seemed like one of the happiest dudes on earth. I've literally never seen the guy act depressed except for the times he makes these incredibly emotional speeches. What he actually does is, he starts out slow and then builds up emotion and then for an exaggerated finish, he starts crying. Yes, you read it right, he cries. Look, I'm not saying crying is wrong or anything but if you want to cry at the end of a speech then make sure you don't start the speech by saying how delicious the blueberry pancakes you had for breakfast were.
But let me just make you aware of what is happening right now. I, Toby Winley, am sitting in the last row of this medium sized room owned by WeCare Ltd that operates all the illness support groups in my city, Densonville. Also as you may have guessed, it also owns all the hospitals in here.
Densonville is a small town. I like it, for obvious reasons. One of the obvious reasons being that it has a bridge. Which means I always have an escape plan, if you know what I mean. Oh and we have this really nice park too.
Interesting story actually, they shut it down when I was 10. We were playing with a boomerang and it got stuck in the tree. I went to get it and found someone hanging from one of it branches. I just sat there and I cried. A lot. Later my mom explained that the guy had dropped out of college and was a pill popper. I didn't get half of what she said but I knew that what he did was bad.
Now some facts about me; I am 17 and currently undergoing therapy. If listening to anxiety attack and suicidal stories and talking about random stuff that culminates in unsuccessful attempts to make friends could be called therapy, then yeah, that's exactly what I'm doing right now.
But it's not like I was that one quiet kid in school that just one day so happened to realize that he needed help and joined this torture chamber. No. That's not even close to what happened.
What actually happened was this; I tried to kill myself. Yes, I did. And for your information, I'm not at all, in any way, ashamed of what I did. I wish I had already leapt from the bridge before the police grabbed and pulled me back. I just have this one regret that doesn't let me fall asleep sometimes.
Then I switched back to reality, only to hear this;
"Now, I would like to call upon the podium, our next bénévole, Toby", Raphael, our support group head, said as he turned to me.
