I remember a few months after, someone I had met that didn’t know about my attempt made a joke, “I can’t think of anything worse than failing a suicide, you fail so much at life that you fail to even kill yourself” and I thought, I can think of something worse than failing a suicide, and that is actually succeeding in killing yourself.
Every person I know or have met thinks I’m extremely happy, when the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.
This isn’t an article; it’s psychotherapy.
”This does not define you.”
For those of you struggling with holding onto life–it gets better. It really does.
When I dig that hole in my mind and don’t seem to be coming out, what I need more than anything is for you to toss me a rope.
The simplest, most mundane tasks of daily life seem to require a Herculean effort.
I want to believe that I have acquired the skills to ward off another depression. I won; I cannot and will not let it get the best of me.
I like to write at least one thing a month to push myself as an internet writer.
But this time, the depression was worse than I could have ever imagined and I couldn’t handle it. I got my dad’s 45 caliber gun and shot myself in the stomach.