"The sun will still rise tomorrow if I kill myself"
"Flowers will still bloom if I kill myself"
"The radio will still play upbeat music if I kill myself."
Yes, these things will keep happening. But you know what else will happen?
All the lovers you've had will hold close the pieces of you they have left and wonder if it was something they did that caused it. Your younger siblings will wish that they had slept in your bed more often, because now that you're gone they hardly remember the comfort that they had sleeping next to you. Your older siblings will think about times you were upset and they never asked what was wrong. Your best friends will become shells of themselves, beating themselves up for not realising you were not okay. Your mother will not be able to walk through the door of the house without looking for your shoes on the mat, and wondering if you did this to yourself because she yelled at you for tracking dirt. Your father will not drink his morning coffee on the couch, because he remembers how many times you sat there with him and ate your cereal.
Yes, the sun will rise, the flowers will bloom, and the radio will play happy songs. But without you, we do not want the sun to rise, because another day is too painful. We do not want to see flowers, because how dare the world show us something beautiful when you cannot appreciate it. We do not want to hear any music, because it reminds we will never see you dance again.
So reach out. For yourself and others. Everyone is worthy and deserving of life and another chance.
I’m awake again. Day 6
Is today a good day to die?
This is something I ask myselfin the morning when I wake up. In third period when I'm trying to keep my eyes open while Mr. Schroeder drones on and on. At the supper table as I'm passing the grean beans. At night when I'm lying awake because my brain won't shut off due to all there is to think about.
Is today the day?
And if not today-when?
I am asking myself this now as I am standing on a narrow ledge six stories above the ground. I'm so high up, I'm practically part of the sky. I look down at the pavement below, and the world tilts. I close my eyes, enjoying the way everything spins. Maybe this time I'll do it-let the air carry me away. It will be like floating in a pool, drifting off until there's nothing.
Intro to All Thee Bright Places by Jennifer Niven
This is by far my favorite introduction. It is also my favorite book of all time. Depression is something running in people's heads all of the time, no matter where you are. This book takes you through this child/young adult's mind day by day. No matter where he is, nor what he is doing or with, the thought of suicide lingers.
It’s Worth Fighting For
(This is not mine, but it still rings in my head when everything around me becomes dark or the world has gone mad. When I break down to tears and beg for surrender everytime - this stopped me from giving up.)
Frodo : I can't do this, Sam.
Sam : I know.
It's all wrong
By rights we shouldn't even be here.
But we are.
It's like in the great stories Mr. Frodo.
The ones that really mattered.
Full of darkness and danger they were,
and sometimes you didn't want to know the end.
Because how could the end be happy.
How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened.
But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow.
Even darkness must pass.
A new day will come.
And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.
Those were the stories that stayed with you.
That meant something.
Even if you were too small to understand why.
But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand.
I know now.
Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t.
Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo : What are we holding on to, Sam?
Sam : That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo.
And it’s worth fighting for.
I have tried to answer the question Life is like? and find that I cannot...
In my mind it presents itself as a complete paradox.
Life is all that we know. What more is there to draw upon for comparison?
Can an entirety be compared to a part? Somehow it sounds weird to my ear to say that a car is like wheel... it's a paradigm much to small, it doesn't serve as an analogy at all. Yet, perhaps oddly, I can u-turn it around and quip that a wheel is like a car: primitive as it is, it rolls, though it won't get you very far...
So please forgive my shifting gears, and taking the question in reverse... by way of example let me now suggest that:
The rotation of the Sun is like Life Itself— in its symbolic rebirth; its highs and its lows. Its disappearance behind the Clouds, and among the drapes of the Night. Its heat, and temporary retreat to cold, with the angles and the distance that the seasons impose...
The warm glow of skin moderate exposure brings; and the burnt blisters of excess! The anticipation of Morning, and the morose eventuality of Death. Every star, even our beloved One comes to its end; perhaps to be born again, as some Constellation, as a Galaxy, or maybe something else...?
Of course, I'm sure that someone will wish to point out to me, that lesser comparisons are constructed all the time... Who hasn't heard that "Life is like a box of chocolate?" but tell me, friend, do you not subliminally feel an instant regret, a poetic injustice in this declaration made towards Life Itself? I ask myself with sadness, searching among the discarded string and the empty wrappers, oh is that all...? but if I flip this proposition, I do indeed see that a box of chocolates is so very Life-like... a wonderful gift! Delicious to look at, to smell and to eat... in moderation!... in moderation because excess in all things is a sure-fire belly ache. This is a box with Life-like fears and regrets: will I get cavities? or lose my waist? am I a chocoholic? And even postulates for endless philosophical debate: Chocolate is Good, or so I wish to believe... that it is Heaven's food... each bite packed with universal Love.
So I'll conclude, returning to where we began... In total beauty and horror, of sense and experience, Life is... like... like nothing else.
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Life is like...
Running up a hill,
and wanting to stop,
Thinking it's too much,
Until you reach the top,
It's like the rush of a fall,
With wind in your hair,
But never hitting the ground,
Never landing there,
It's like floating in space,
Surrounded by stars,
But still alone,
Still covered in scars,
It's like screaming and crying,
Without any sound,
Your heads under water,
But you still haven't drowned,
But it's also like seasons,
The darkest of winters,
Give way to spring,
With life at our centers,
And never ending,
Life is a cycle,
And one day you'll see,
Is what ever you want it to be.
The Daily Occurrence
What are dreams but the fancy free Specific Notions of a life unlived?
Threads of thoughts are sewed with silver words amongst the white grey matter
Hoping that insulation will take hold and the mind not be a sieve
Much to do with fundamentals and foundations: more prior that latter
Oh cursed be the sunlight that falls on thy face!
Cursed be the moonlight that fains every race!
Inside balloons of comfort do our houses lie
When we should be upon the precipice: Closely always to die
Repeated motions stay for longevity
Old platitudes only give us simplicity
“But what of the sayings of the mentor?”
“They are as helpful as the Chinese minotaur.”
I dream constantly of daily occurrences
Which never occur
In your headway freeway every hour
Lies the grave grove of the common our