Surviving, Not Living.

Suffering over Pleasure

Have you ever witnessed someone expecting to live, but suddenly dying ?

It is those kinds of experiences that make you realize how mortifying this world can be. What if your life is constant suffering and you just want to escape, but you continue because you have a little ounce of hope left behind.
Success. Doesn't everyone wish to be successful to a certain extent? School, money, job, family; all the things we wish to be successful in. I have always wanted to be successful, whether it's at suicide or my G.P.A. I just never wanted to be known as someone who failed at something so important.

If you have gotten to the point where you can no longer get up anymore, the last thing you would want to do is wake up in more suffering with all eyes around you, with people giving you more attention than ever before.

Most people have strong logic in their suicide; it makes sense. In their eyes, life has more suffering than pleasure, so what's the point in continuing ? Especially when they believe they are a burden to everyone around them, and feel absolutely alone in their struggle.

It's really important to not feel alone because once you feel alone, you are one step closer to killing yourself. I was lucky enough when I went to the hospital, and the doctors were very compassionate and caring. Had they been terrible towards me, it would've been one step closer off the edge. Feeling hopeless means you are at the end; it means you need someone to help you. It is only the times when I was hopeless that I had a huge breakdown. I thought " to heck with this world ." And the blood scattered my canvas faster and faster. In this state, I would do absolutely anything.

I never saw contemplating suicide as abnormal until I kept seeing things like " same-day appointments if you are having suicidual thoughts." I've battled suicidual thoughts for a longtime, so it came as a shock to me. Then again, these suicidual thoughts turned into very self-destructive, impulsive acts.

I have to keep convincing myself that going to the hospital wasn't a mistake. At the hospital, my thoughts sounded like this:
Just be honest. Don't lie like you used to.
Just tell them everything
Don't be afraid, you can trust them.

It went a little something like this:

The nurse kept asking questions while checking my blood pressure and went on to ask " Have you had any thought of hurting yourself?"
Yup.
He proceeds to look up at me in a " really " expression with his chin lower to his chest.
OK, have you acted on this thoughts?
Yup.
He started to act a bit weird and nervous; he was definitely new at this job.
I was sitted inside a room, in which crippling anxiety overwhelmed me, along with a mild depression. The behavioral clinician walked in, asked me how I was doing.
Fine.
I proceeded to tell her everything about what I've been going through for some time. I always wonder how people can cope with such extremities, it seems nearly impossible.