So today, a girl from my school, a year below me (13/14 years old) commited suicide while in the hospital getting help for her anorexia.
I remember hearing about this from other students. I didn't know the girl, and only now I know her name was Sara (Sarah?).
But she got me thinking.
A year ago, I was in a bad state of mind. I was sad, anxious, felt lonely, worthless, without a use to society, nothing important. I started cutting myself, banging my head against a wall, punishing myself by biting, scratching, slapping, kicking, hitting myself (any way I could find to hurt myself was good). I lied to my friends that it was the cats. They joked I'm to cheerful and optimistic to be suicidal. I felt like I had no escape.
I felt like killing myself was the best option.
I tried four times. Tried to jump to my death. All the times, as I was seconds away from commiting myself to that faith, I stopped.
I just knew that there was one person in this world who'd go after me, who if I'd jump right now and they were there, would jump after me.
I never told anyone about it. It took a long time for me to heal, and I'm grateful that I'm still here today, but I'll never forget the feeling of freedom I felt when I was about to jump, nor the dreadful feeling I felt throughout those months.
I reflect myself now on that girl. Her classmates are crying, so do the teachers, the school disco was cancelled, everyone's sad. I could've been on her place a year ago.
I'll make sure now to be thankful everyday that I lived, and I'll think about that girl. She didn't have the luck I had. She may have had it worse than me, a worse life than me, but when I think about her, I'm glad I'm here today, but I wished she'd be here too. Thank you for opening my eyes today, RIP.