That Good Night

People don't know what suicide is. The vast majority, at least. To them, it's the coward's way out, or a surprise that no one saw coming. Idiots.

Suicide is a beast, rampaging through your mind, until one day you finally get trampled by it. You never choose to stop and let it get you. It's a matter of fatigue. You fall over because you can't run anymore. Imagine what drowning is like - you kick and beat the water, not wanting to go under, but eventually you run out of energy, and there is nothing you can do. That's suicide.

There are always signs. Just because you don't see them doesn't mean they're not there. They may be little, but if you really cared about a person, you'd notice them. And if you didn't care about the person, you have no right to moan and complain when they're gone. You may not be at fault if your friend or loved one or family members kills him/herself; you may have noticed the signs and tried to help them, and they didn't, or couldn't, accept your help, or maybe it simply wasn't enough. It's not your fault, no more than it's the fault of the dead.

A few weeks ago, I was happy. But one night, as I lay in my bed, I suddenly felt that I should die. I shivered beneath the blanket, afraid. I didn't want to die, but I felt that it was inevitable. Suicide was my shadow, always chasing me and covering me, almost like a protector.

It will always be there, for me and for so many other people. Every time I hear, "It was such a shock" or "She was such a happy girl" or "I wish I'd known," it makes me want to stick my fist through a wall. I'm here, I'm right here! So was she, and him and her and him and him and her and everyone else that slit their wrists or shot themselves or took a handful of pills or stuck a noose around their necks. You don't have to help us, I know I wouldn't want someone to overtax themselves for my sake, even if my life was at stake, but don't you dare act like our death, our suffering, cost you a damn thing if you couldn't even see that we were hurting.