Dear Suicide and Depression,
I’ll be honest and transparent with you, and I’ll tell you why I used to flirt with you and hang out with you, along with Depression.
I hung out with you both because it felt like you two were the only few ones, who noticed me and my desperation. But I see now, that wasn’t true; someone noticed me and tried to help me, but I chose to try to ignore him.
As we started to be “friends,” I went deeper and deeper into darkness and your eyes and depression’s eyes, glinted with joy and something else! I wish I had seen that something else, but all I saw was the joy and the fake, broken promises that I would be away from pain; when really, you both just dragged me deeper into pain.
I started believing the lies, that you both whispered in my ears and my heart. That I wasn’t important. That when I went away, that I would be noticed that I was gone, but people would forget me and only remember me as a faint memory.
That I hurt, too many of the people I cared for. That I was a burden to the world and to my family and friends. That I wasn’t perfect.
You both pretended to care for me, as I cried into both of your shoulders and it felt so real. I thought as I was crying, that you both cared for me.
But you both lied with a smoothness, that I was blind too. I didn’t see that as you both watched me cry, that you both scooped up my tears; not because you both knew the value of my teardrops, but because you didn’t.
You both truly didn’t know the worth of my tears. You both just enjoyed scooping them up. You both didn’t see, how valuable I was. You just both saw, how much fun it would be … to torture me.
Did guilt set in both of your hearts or what was left of your hearts, as you watched me wither in your care? When you both saw, that I thought I trusted you? But no, I guess not. If you had a heart, you wouldn’t be doing this; but the only heart you have is the heart to fear who sent you, to torture and bring me down.
Then you both started to trying to plant darker lies and thoughts. And these were the thoughts: that I deserved pain. That maybe, I was better off dead. That I didn’t mean much to anyone.
And somehow, I believed you. You both started both started getting rougher with me, and yet I stayed. How come I didn’t see that you were both were getting more and more desperate, because your master was too?
How come I didn’t see, that you both were using the wounds that I had gotten from the past and that you both were just making them deeper and hurting more? How come I didn’t see that you both, were just desperate to tear my heart apart?
Because all I saw, was the shattered promises that you both promised me, as I thought about killing myself. That I would stop hurting the people I love, and that it would be over. That I would cease to be nothing, and that it would a “blessed darkness.”
So, I had the knife in my hand as the thoughts swept through my mind, going here and there; pushing me to do it. I raised the knife closer, and as I raised it I stared into the reflection of who I thought was a stranger: me.
And more thoughts came: That … that would’t be good and fair for my brother to find his sister dead, with her throat slit.
But you both whispered louder and louder and I half-listened, but I was confused and afraid and tired; and unconsciously, the knife went closer to my throat.
But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. Because someone stopped me. And that someone was Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit. I know that some of you believe that God doesn’t exist, or that he’s just a fairy-tale; but to me God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit/Ghost is as real as you and me.
And He stopped me. He stopped me from doing such a foolish thing, and I’m glad; I’m glad because he knew what he was doing and I didn’t.
And now, I just want to say that when God stopped me, I regretted. I’m sure you both know, what I regretted. But I can’t live life to the full and become who I am meant to be, regretting. I can’t spend my life regretting. I have to spend my life, living.
So, I wanted to tell both of you this: I no longer regret. I can no longer keep regretting my life, because my life is my own story and it is unique.
I know what I want to tell you both, and this is what I’m telling you now: Thank you both, for teaching me lessons that I won’t forget. Because as hard as it was and painful as it was too, the lessons I learned are valuable.
And this is a goodbye. This is the last time you’ll both see me. So, goodbye, my friends. Goodbye.