you know, i read a story somewhere from a woman who said something along the lines of: “i am suicidal. but it’s not what you think.” she had a normal life, wasn’t harming herself, wasn’t particularly in a hard situation…it was just a constant feeling of “if i died, i wouldn’t mind,” and “wow, i actually feel like being dead would be easier.”
the fact that people from my school probably read my blog to screenshot and make fun of in group chats is the only reason why i felt hesitant to talk about this. but, honestly, i don’t really care- i use my blog to vent and to talk and so i will. today, on the 4th of april, i decided and completely came to the conclusion that i am suicidal. and it’s honestly not what you think.
i am not hurting myself (not physically.) and i am not in a ‘bad’ situation (other than my obvious mental state). it’s something that has been an issue for a while and only very few people know this about me. they will know that i was depressed at a point in my life, they will know that i hurt myself and they will know that life was incredibly difficult for me. but not everybody knows; i intended to keep it that way, but honestly, letting it out is so much healthier. my blog is small and get’s no views or likes but it is somewhat comforting to let it all out on a blog post. it’s better than a journal. it’s quicker and public for people to read, public for people to give advice, public for people to know that this is a common feeling and it’s not what people think.
whenever i find myself saying, “i want to die” or “wow i actually want to commit suicide”, i’m only half joking. that’s because i won’t kill myself, and i could never bring myself to, but honestly, the feeling is strong. forgive me if i use the words of the woman i read about too heavily, i don’t remember the article off by heart and i apologise for any ‘copying’. but it goes like this. i wake up and feel suddenly empty.
if i could describe the feeling i get when i wake up as a colour, i would say grey. a grey colour because there is simply nothing that stands out or nothing that is overwhelming about my emotions. i wake up, i sigh, i wonder how the day will pan out.
i have friends, family who support me, and everything i could possibly ever need in life. but, if that is the case… why do i feel this way? why do i have this longing- this urge, this overwhelming, powerful urge to end my life and vanish off the planet? honestly, after asking myself this question for a very long time, i’m not sure what the answer is anymore. i’m afraid i never will.
as somebody who went through depression before and was diagnosed with it by several counsellors and doctors, i definitely feel the same i did back then. empty. heavy. stale, almost. should i dare call it depression? yes. i do think it is a form of depression that weighs me down, that keeps me glued to my pillow and the comfort of my bedroom, swallowed in inky darkness and the glow of my laptop screen; the unmotivation to do my homework and study, the lack of energy to get up and get ready for school, the lack of energy that allows me to move from my bedroom to the shower- and the list quite possibly will never end. at one point, i thought it was incurable. it isn’t, but if feels that way.
none of this a cry for help, a plea for sympathy- it’s honestly the opposite. talking about it has made me feel lighter and better in a way that i think i can sleep tonight without being restless, without my chest being tight and without my thoughts being cluttered with nothings and nobodies.
am i okay? yes– i’m alive and breathing, eating, drinking, going to the toilet, going to school, brushing my teeth, doing life the way majority of people do.
am i going to kill myself? no– because i’m too scared to actually do it, and i know it would do nothing for me and actually affect my family more than anybody else, and i would never want to cause them pain.
am i happy? who knows– life works in curious ways and the only way to understand the concept of living is to just do it. live and carry on as normal.