SEPTEMBER 27, 2017 (Why you should live)

A note to anyone and everyone about to read this that's ever contemplated suicide:
This first part is the fantastical daydream of it, the tempting allure of being free and at peace and never being able to be hurt again. This was written in May, almost five months before my actual suicide attempt. I left it unedited (excuse any mistakes) for a reason.
The second half, written today, almost 5 months after my suicide attempt, is a follow-up of what actually happened. What it actually felt like. The fear you'll never experience unless you're dying, stronger than any will to die, is the natural instinct of human preservation. Meaning: everyone regrets it once they've passed the illusory idea of it and have entered the excruciating reality. It's unbelievable quantities of regret, shame, guilt, pain, the constant struggle of living after, recovering, it's worse than anything else I've ever experienced. It's interesting how you can only truly see everything that's been keeping you alive when their existence, subjective to your own, is threatened and taken away. If you are alive and reading this, something is keeping you here, even if it's just one innocuous detail or feeling. It's the overriding 51/49 of why you're here, and why you should stay. If you don't, either way, what you experience will be absolute hell on earth, or in the worse case, hell in hell. Either way, it's a hell worse than life.
I guess what I'm trying to convey is meaning. Every life has at least a decent quantity of meaning. I've discovered that about myself, about other people, about almost everything, because of it. And: I should probably specify that I am okay now. I've learned a lot from the past five months, even when things got worse for me, circumstantially, than they ever were before. I say this not to encourage and/or glamorize suicide/ mental illness in any way. I just really hope it helps someone that needs help.