My name doesn’t matter at this point.
I lived for 25 years and have been dead for 5. No, i was not murdered, or died in a tragic accident. I chose this, for reasons many of you may not understand. I did fought. I did give my best but it wasn’t good enough. I was just your average depressive, no friends, teenager. I always hoped that things would end up different and that I would live a normal life, go to college, have friends, eventually meet the love of my life and start my own family but I guess that wasn’t for me.
My story ended a hot summer Thursday night. I had gotten home early, there was no one around, like always. My mom was always working and my brother was always outside playing with his friends. I went straight to my room, locked the door and laid in my bed. As I stared at the ceiling my mind started overthinking like it does all the time. That’s one of the qualities I hate more of being depressed, was the fact that even the smallest things will affect you greatly. So there I was thinking about my day today, how once again I didn’t talked to anyone because my social anxiety doesn’t let me. How I heard and saw people talking about me, about how weird I was, about how I was always by myself and didn’t have one friend. I thought about how alone I felt even when surrounded by people. How I felt unloved even though some people did loved me. Tears started coming out, I wish I could have told someone how I felt but I kept stopping myself thinking that no one would care or I would be just a burden to them. I wanted help, but at the same time I didn’t. At that point I felt like a lost cause even though I wasn’t. It’s terrifying to reach that point where you think that death is not only the last option but the best.
I had given up on myself. After years of fighting I was done. I had made my mind and nothing was gonna change it. I deleted all my social media because I didn’t want to attract any attention, or get a bunch of hypocrites saying “oh he was such a good friend” when they never knew me. I got off my bed and went to the bathroom and grabbed a razor. I knew my mom or my brother could be back any minute so I decided to walk to the park. The whole park was empty, so i decided to sit under a tree for a few minutes. As I sat there I looked up at the sky, the view was amazing, so many stars, and felt the wind one more time caressing my skin.
This was it. The point of no return. I turned my phone off, rolled up my sleeves, and took the razor out. Here we go. One large cut on each arm, I felt pain one last time. I looked up at the sky one last time. I started to feel cold and my vision was fading. I was leaving this world that caused me so much pain and in the end I was still okay with it. I closed my eyes and that was it.
My name doesn’t matter at this point. I lived for 25 years and I’ve been dead for 5 but you are still alive, still fighting, don’t give up like I did because you’re stronger than I was.
I’ve seen many of you struggling and fighting, close to giving up, but I admire the fact that even after everything you didn’t give up like I did.