Suicide Is an Answer, But Not the Right One
Remembering the day, five years ago, when I made a fateful decision
Author’s note: I know very well trigger warnings don’t work — at least they never did for me — which is why I’m not putting one on this essay. If you are suicidal, this is your opportunity to change your path. Don’t dwell on suicide and look for reasons to do it in other people’s writing. Talk to someone. If you don’t have anyone, send me a private note. Talk to me! I’m not an expert or a doctor, but the important thing is that you ask for help. If you don’t like me, call a hotline. Call anyone.
Ask for help. I was lucky. I didn’t ask for help and I attempted. I didn’t die. You might. You might damage your brain or body and be left with regrets. I will always regret I didn’t give someone, anyone, the chance to help me.
Get help. Do it right now.
I was scared. I could feel the effects of the pills. I couldn’t control my legs. I knew I was slipping. I no longer wanted to die, but it was too late. I wanted to be upstairs in bed with Flora and Zoey, not fading fast in a beanbag on the kitchen floor.
My whole body went numb.
Help me. I’m scared. I don’t want to go!
