Okay, so I’m kinda annoyed, and I guess this is a reply.
Why are you so afraid
Upon reading what I write
Why does the word suicide
Scare you so much
Why are you so afraid
When I want to live
Why are you so afraid
That the person will be crushed?
Why are you so afraid? People reading this blog, who know I wrote it, being all ‘concerned’. About what? So yeah, you may not think about suicide. I do. I’m safe. I want to live. And yeah, I’ve thought about suicide often. I know. That makes me weird. It makes me crazy. That hell, I’ve thought about suicide. I’ve not only thought about it. I’ve planned my suicide. I’ve dreamed about killing myself. I’ve looked up methods. And come across sites that I think should be banned from the internet, for all the information they give about how to kill yourself successfully. I’ve found out about various methods. Researched them. I know how to obtain things that I can use and wouldn’t. I’ve read through people’s stories and why they weren’t successful, so that I know what to do differently. And now, well, I can’t say it’s all completely passed. I can’t say I never think about it all. The difference being that now I don’t think about suicide in a practical sense. At the time, I researched the information as it was essential for me to know as I planned on using it. Now, the information is security. But, I want to live. I know, I’m weird. You should freak out when you hear this. Because who thinks about suicide in such detail and openly admits it. I don’t actually in real life. Surprise, surprise. Most my friends and acquaintances would freak out if they knew. Why though? Why? They escape in their ways. You escape in your ways. My way of escape was just, the ultimate escape. It isn’t now. For I want to live. I want to see what life can be. Why when people read this blog, which, is focused on the positive, do they get scared? Why when you read a blog about ‘the reasons I want to live’ are you concerned about the author? Why? Because ‘it’s not normal’? Maybe it is normal. Maybe it’s not. That’s not up for debate on here. I wanted this blog to be public. I wanted it to be for everyone to write their reasons to live. I still want that. But now I’m scared of showing it to people. Now I’m scared of sharing myself with the world. Now I’m scared of the rejection. The ‘are you okay?’ because I said ‘it’s a year since I promised to give life a go and I’m glad I’m here’. Instead of the ‘good for you’ or ‘I’m glad you’re here’. Yes, that’s what happened to me, when I shared with someone on the 19th of October that it was a year since I’d promised to give life a go. I know, that’s scary. The unknown can be scary for people. If you’re concerned about someone, yeah, tell them. But how will you tell them? Will you be there? Or will you turn them away from you? Why jump to the extreme? Why? Why are you so afraid? Why can’t you face the unknown and accept it? Why am I such a freak? I don’t think I am. I think I’m brave. For acknowledging what I think, facing it, and dealing with it. Trying to, anyways.
I’ve always thought about suicide. I just wasn’t always aware of it. I used to joke with my friends about calling Samaritans (116 123). We were teenagers. I never did call them. If you ever need to call them, do. It’s worth it to. When the years passed, I actually tried a few times, but could never speak and hung up the phone. I never consciously knew that I thought about suicide until recently. Although, upon reading some of my writings I know I thought about it, but just wasn’t aware of it. Now that I’ve acknowledged it, I can deal with it. I can face it.
I’ve always felt guilty for being alive. This is the first time in my life that I’m aware that from when I was a young child I’ve felt guilty for living, for being. That I shouldn’t be here. I still believe I shouldn’t. Because of all the people I hurt just by living, by being. But now I’m acknowledging it. Yes, I feel guilty for living. Yes, I hate that I’m here. I want to destroy myself. Anyhow, anyway. I want to get rid of myself. I hate myself. I don’t want to be here. So? So now I know. Now that I know what I think, I can acknowledge that it’s illogical. I can see where some of it comes from. When you hear enough times that you’re the cause of someone wanting to kill themselves, when you’re too young to know any better, you believe it. I don’t know where all, or even most of it is sourced. I now know where some of it comes from. I can know that even if people hate that I’m in this world, it’s okay. It’s not my issue, but theirs. I can know that even if I hate myself, I’m lovable, and infinitely worthy, just because I’m here. I can know that even though I feel guilty for being alive, I don’t need to, I’m not hurting anyone. Okay, so I am hurting people, just by existing, by being present in this world, but that is their problem. It’s not my problem.
Yes, I’ve thought about suicide often. At times I was very close to ending it. I’m not sure what held me back. I’m grateful that I didn’t. I’m grateful that I’m here. I still consider suicide to be an escape route. I have a way I can end it. I’ve planned a way that no one would know that I have until it’s too late to do anything about it (and it’d look accidental). Yet, I won’t act on it. I hope. I’ve chosen a method that would take time to implement. Intentionally. I know that at this point in my life I need the security of knowing I can end it at any moment. So, I’ve chosen a method that although hopefully foolproof, would take time for me to implement. I’ve chosen that because if I could end it in just a moment, I could impulsively do that when freaking out. But if I’m going to take time, and can be drugged enough without ending it, and unless completely intentional all the way, it probably won’t happen. It’ll take too long to do. And I probably never will. I hope I never will. So far I’ve come up with fifty one reasons why live. I find it hard to think of more reasons but I hope I still come up with plenty more. I hope people join and share their own.
I know this post isn’t written very well. I’m not even sure exactly what I’m trying to say. Maybe don’t look at me as a freak. Maybe don’t be concerned. No, you can be concerned about me in a nice way. Not in a weird way. Don’t freak out on me. I freak out on myself enough. I can’t deal with anyone freaking out on me. If you care, just be there. And know it’s normal. This might not be your normal. But it’s my normal. No, I’m not depressed. I struggle. A lot. I struggle with myself. I struggle with the world. I struggle with my past. I struggle with my present. I struggle with accepting who I am, who I was, who I want to be. And, I’m dealing with it. Or, trying to. I’m using it. I’m using my past to help me. I’m using my present to help me. And learning a lot. I’m learning how to live in the moment. Which not everyone knows how to do. For they’ve never needed to learn to focus on just that moment, in order to actually live through it. I’m learning how to do the next right thing. I’m learning to turn to others. Which, isn’t very safe. I’m learning to focus on what I’m grateful for. I’m learning to focus on and appreciate the beauty in the world. I’m learning how to give myself what I need. How to tell myself what I need to hear. How to tune into the part of myself that believes I’m worth it, deserve it, and can do it. I’m learning that everything passes. I’m learning that not all I think has to be true. That not all I believe is factual. That I can act on something even if I don’t want to. That I don’t have to act on everything I thought I had to do. One day I’ll be able to apply that always. That I can do what I’ve believed previously is impossible. I’m learning. And so can you learn. For the moment. At the moment. In the moment.
And gosh, this is long. Long enough that I doubt anyone has read through this all. If you have, I’d love to know that you have and hear your thoughts.