Don’t ever try to kill yourself. It’s just not one of those things you put on your bucket list you know. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s not relief and freedom. It’s not a bright-bright light at the end of the tunnel. It’s not easy. It’s not easy. And it definitely isn’t pretty. Don’t try it out, don’t let yourself go to see what happens. Don’t ever try to end your life. It won’t live up to your expectations. It’ll be horrible, awful and a hundred more words for gruesome. And for what? Most likely, you’ll live.
(I know what I wrote sounds preachy, but it’s not meant to be. I was going to continue it with a tale of mine from a horrible, awful and a hundred more words for gruesome experience, but the truth is, I can’t phrase it. I can’t find the words to capture it. To be hundred percent honest I can’t really capture it inside myself either, it’s hard to think about. So my appalling story that was meant to scare you away from doing stupid stuff will remain inside myself, and hopefully scare myself out of doing stupid stuff.
But if we stop to think about it, what good does it do us to continue sabotaging ourselves? Why do we continue telling ourselves the shit our abusers used to tell us, when the sound of their voices isn’t anything more than a memory to us now? Wouldn’t it be great if we could stand up for ourselves against ourselves, the same way we wish someone would’ve done it against others, who treated us bad, back then?)