I’ve just turned 18 and the world hasn’t caught fire.
I spent the better part of these 18 years planning to end it. Hoping to get in fatal accidents or praying for lethal illnesses.
I’ve spent countless days and nights sitting on my bathroom floor begging it to end, because i couldn’t take the idea of existing. I couldn’t see why i should go on.
It’s been two years since I decided to give myself a chance. Two years since i started looking people in the eyes and listening to them talk.
I’ve heard the birds sing and the wind speak. I’ve heard my friends laugh, over and over and over again. I thought that if there was ever anything worth living for it might be this.
I saw the best in people and was let down a lot. I was betrayed by people I thought would stay with me forever. I sat in my anger and it told me its name was grief. I sat with my grief and it told me its name was love.
I figured that it’s better to have loved people and to have been let down, rather than to have never given them a chance at all. My love for them taught me more about myself than anything or anyone else could ever.
I started painting again. I started smoking again. I started letting the little girl in me laugh more, with her laugh that was always too big and too loud for those around her. I found people who love her. I saw a little more of the world and realised how small my perspective has been. I decided I need to see more. I fell in love again, with someone I’ve missed for a while. I cried a lot.
Giving life a chance hasn’t been easy, in fact it’s probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And I spend the better part of my days romanticising it so I can keep moving forward. But I’ve met so many people and I’ve felt so much love. I’m happy I didn’t end it.
I hope it’s only up from here
