Do you feel the fear as it runs through your veins? You think its adrenaline. You feel so sure that this is what youâre supposed to do. You stare at your grey ceiling with your chest rising and falling quickly. Your hands are rough and dry as they scratch at your burning eyes, filling with tears. The moonlight that creeps through your window illuminates the white scars that are delicately engraved into your wrists. Youâre scared. You are so freaking scared.
But what else are you supposed to do? They hate you, right? Everyone? Yourself even? Yeah, you hate yourself most of all. The way you talk, the way you breathe, the way you look and even the way your mind thinks. They donât get it, they think itâs your choice. You are choosing to be sad. You are choosing to hurt. You are choosing to kill yourself. But to you, itâs not a choice.
Itâs the only way out.
You close your eyes and let the last few tears slip silently down your cheeks. One touches your lips and you think about how the salty warmth has become so familiar to you. Your hands clench the sheets as the pain burns in your chest, stretching its sharp claws into your heart then into your lungs, taking your breath from you. You fight it all because you love them, right? Youâre doing this all for them?
But in the end, theyâre not stopping you are they? Youâre just using them as an excuse because youâre scared. Stop. Stop believing that that means something is wrong with you.
 Maybe youâre afraid because arenât supposed to die.
 Maybe your hands shake as you hold your razor, hold your pills, hold your gun, because you were meant to drop it, to misfire, to miss cutting a main artery. Maybe instead of consuming yourself with how hard this life makes it to live, you should realize how hard it makes it to die? Like the sunsets that you love to watch from your roof. Or the way your favourite song makes you melt into a world where everything is okay. Or how excited you are when you smell your favourite meal being cooked in the kitchen.
You lie in the darkness, so afraid and so fed up with breathing. But sooner or later the sun will rise and warmth will fill the world. Maybe not your world, maybe not yet. But take a moment to realize the beauty you, yourself, bring into this world. I know you just scoffed. I know youâre thinking about how ugly you are and how pathetic you are. How could you affect this world? You could realize that youâre not wrong or messed up or ugly for feeling the way you do. Did that hit your pride? Yeah, being suicidal and depressed does not make you special. But you waking up each day. You thinking of those around you. You saying youâll wait it out one more night - thatâs what makes you special. And in your weakness youâll be surprised by how beautiful you become.
So I guess I want to be your sign today. When you see this, I want you to look at this picture and see that how youâre feeling doesnât have to result in death. Instead, it can result in something beautiful. You can choose to live another day, another year, or even the rest of your life. You can smile at someone, the way you wish someone would have smiled at you. You can lend a hand to someone, the way you only wished someone would have had for you. You can save someone, the way you desperately begged for every time you cut and every time you swore âtonight will be my lastâ. I need you to know that beautiful things can come out of your situation.
I need you to believe me.
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