Dear Josh,

Dear Josh,

I remember when you told me that suicide was weak, and it was taking the easy way out. That no one can blame your death on anyone but you, even if someone lead you to doing it. Because at the end of the day, they aren't the ones tying the noose around your head. They aren't the ones putting the bullet in the gun. They aren't the ones forcing pills down your throat.

I remember thinking how ignorant you were, that you were weak and suicide was courageous. But maybe that was because I would never be strong enough to wrap the noose around my neck, to put the bullet in the gun, to shove pills down my throat.

Being suicidal doesn't mean you're depressed, I remember you not believing me when I said that. But I know it's true because I'm not depressed. Yet everyday I just want to get this over with. To stop living. I don't cut, I don't cry. One second I'm happy but the next I realise just how worthless I am, how disgusting I am.

You'd say depression was weak, because they cared what everyone would think. You'd say suicide was selfish because they wouldn't care about those who would miss them. But what about those who don't care what everyone thinks, that do care for those they will leave behind? Because I'm still suicidal.

The worst thing, though, is not when it's some meaningless stranger telling you how worthless you are. It's the worst when it's you telling yourself how worthless you are. And although it might be easy to not care what you think, that's too difficult when you already believe it. Because I know how useless I am. But I also know how loved I am.

And maybe it's the thought of those loved ones which stops me from ever tying the noose, pulling the trigger and swallowing the pill. Maybe they unknowingly help me when I suddenly feel like dying for no known reason.

But that still doesn't change the fact that I'm too weak to change it all, to end all of my poisonous thoughts.

It still doesn't change the fact that I want one thing;

To die.