Chapter 1
Did you know over 34,00 people a year commit suicide, that’s about twice as many deaths as caused by homicide. I was almost one of those people. I know what you’re thinking wow a girl is writing about her own traumatic life, and the answer to that is yes I am. See people think depression is sadness, crying or dressing out in black. But people are so wrong it’s this feeling of numbness, just wanting to feel something. Have you ever broke down sobbing after so long of being strong? Crumbled to the floor, hands by your face. Your face scrunches up and you let out that first gasp. You try to be quiet but eventually it becomes loud,heart wrenching sobs. You cry and cry, so much you cant breath. You ask whoevers up there, ¨Why? Why me? Why this? Why can’t I just be dead?¨ You say you want to end it all right there right then. You sob trying to gasp breather in between. Eventually you completely collapse on the floor after, you just lay there numb. Depression is living inside of a body that wants to survive with a mind that tries to die. Depression is like a bruise that never goes away. A bruise in your mind. My silence is just another word for pain. Yes I have depression and no I can’t just get over it. I say sorry a lot mostly because I feel as if everything is my fault but I know it’s not. I apologize for mistakes I didn’t even make. How does that make sense you’re wondering, because if no one else says it it won’t be said. I don’t think people understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself. See do you ever feel, so sad that, your chest aches, and your heart beats, but you feel so, Empty, like your nothing, and your life would be better, if you could just sleep,for a while. Do you ever feel like that? That’s how I always feel. And if you ever noticed the darkness that upon me. All the times I was doing “fine” was an act. Suffering really. As I watched the stars and moon so pure, so bright yet so far away and only showing half of themselves it reminded me all the times I cried for help because I liked the darkness so it was the darkness I became. I wanted to talk about it. Damn it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell. I wanted to shout about it but all I could do was whisper “I’m fine”. Faking a smile is so much easier than explaining why you are sad. I’m exactly the type of girl that has a smile on my face while having countless scars on my wrist. You’re probably asking yourself “Has this girl gotten help?” Yes I have tried to seek help. I told my parent and all she did was give me pills from this doctor that told me i’d be fine and she told me that these pills will make me learn how to smile. I don’t wanna have something forced me smile when I know I have no happiness left in me. 34,000 people die a year from suicide and i’m not yet one of them.
