Dedication: I want to dedicate this letter to the friends i lost and the family i hurt.
This subject is a touchy one but I can’t seem to get it out of my head. I have clinical depression, anxiety and have personally been through it all. When I say all…I’m talking about suicide. I don’t even know where to start. There is a 99.9% chance you don’t know that I have attempted suicide. You may have seen my scars that cover my arms and legs. What you don’t see is that they are on my stomach, ankles and chest as well.
Another thing you may not know about me: In my freshman year, I took over 350 pain pills in an attempt to end my life. I had just turned fourteen at that time. I felt I had just started living. I didn’t tell my Mom that I was depressed and suicidal. How can you tell the woman who gave you life that you don’t want it anymore?
The night I tried to end my life still haunts me. I can still smell the pills, I can still taste the coating on the pills. It was so hard to breath. I went into the spare bedroom so I could open the window and breath fresh air. I remember how hard it was to walk. Specifically, I remember how I felt when I though was about to take my last breath.
The regret, the tears staining my face and the dizziness. I remember it all. When I realized what I had done, I instantly regretted it. I thought about all the things I hadn’t done and would never get the chance to do. I had never driven a car. I had never gone to Florida. I had never met my brother. I had never been a aunt. I didn’t finish high school. I would never go to college. I would have never seen my sister walk down the isle. I would have never fallen in love nor felt true love. Above all, I wouldn’t have told my family and friends that I loved them enough. My best friend would think she didn’t do enough, my mother would blame herself, my siblings wouldn’t have me anymore.
At this point, all of this raced through my mind.
At this point, I realized I didn’t want to die.
Although I would leave letters, I knew the letters couldn’t bring me back. I knew they wouldn’t help. Letters wouldn’t answer the questions that my family and friends would have. They wouldn’t wipe away the tears on there faces. The people that love and care about me would never hear my laugh again, never see me smile again nor would they ever have me in their lives again.
I realized someone would find me dead. Most likely, that would be my Mom. As I thought of that, it occurred to me that I would never forgive myself for even almost permitting this to become a remote possibility. I can never apologize enough for what I was planing. But what I can do is to be here for the my family and friends. I also want to be here for the people who are considering suicide.
I still have days where when I wake up I ask God why am I here. Why keep me alive? Then I have other days when everything is perfect and I think why I wanted to die. I have people that love me. I have people who care. I am so sorry for the people who feel the way I do. But I am here. I will be here for these people. I will live on and I will do whatever I can to help. I will pay it forward.
If I had one wish, I wouldn’t wish for money, or successes. I would wish that no one will ever feel like the way I did. I don’t want anyone to ever experience these feelings. I think of suicide as ending a book that isn’t finished yet.
Project Semicolon project it is a suicide awareness site (projectsemicolon.com). In a sentence there are semicolons and periods, think of it as the period is ending your life and or suicide. You can end the sentence but why end a unfinished sentence when you can use the semicolon to keep it going.
Why not use the semicolon to finish the unfinished sentence? Don’t end your life because your story isn’t over, and your sentence isn’t over. It’s not ready to be over.