Everything you said about suicide and depression, I used to say and believe that too. But lately I just can't. None of that means anything to me, I'm just...I don't know. I'm sorry.

Anónimo

 

Listen to me. 

If you were watching my blog just a few weeks ago, then you’d probably be shocked that I am being as positive as I am and saying the things I am. Never in my entire life have I been so close so suicide as I was then. I’ve always known that I would never commit suicide because my family is so close knit and even if I don’t talk to my friends much, I know that they love me. I could never bare hurting any of them like that and I can’t bare knowing that people here who talk to me when they are depressed wouldn’t have that outlet anymore. I didn’t want to be a bad example for all the kids that I always told not to commit. 

But I was legitimately scared that I was going to snap, just lash out and do something to myself without any intention or will, and then it would be too late. There was one night in particular when I literally came within inches of suicide, had anything happened, anything small at all, I would have snapped and I wouldn’t be here right now. 

I have never felt that way in my entire life, and that’s saying something, because I’ve spent the majority of my preteen-to teenage years being depressed and I was very suicidal when I was 12-14. 

There were so many people messaging me here, trying to be supportive and it was nice but I was so empty that I literally didn’t feel anything from those messages. It meant nothing to me. Half of them I never even got around to responding to. 

It was nice to know people cared but I just couldn’t lift the shit off my chest and let in what they were saying. I was paralyzed by the self-loathing and upset.

I tried forcing myself to hang out with people, but I was depressed the entire time, or would break down when I got home. I’d pick apart every little situation and analyze everything. 

But somehow I kept going, and I really don’t know how. Instead of wallowing in my misery, I chose to use my depression as a point of understanding for all of the depressed people here, and I started trying to reach out and help people. Sending anonymous positive messages, trying to give people advice, calm them down, just help them in general.

If anything, that was the best cure for me. Helping others distracted me from my own grief and made me feel as if I had a purpose. My purpose was to try and make sure others stay in this world. That they don’t stoop to the level that I was at.

The depression still lingers, but I currently feel so much better. And now I am so fucking thankful that I didn’t lash out and take my life those few weeks ago, because things always get better, they always do, even if it doesn’t feel like they are going to.

And trust me, I didn’t think it was ever going to go away. I legitimately thought that that was it and it was all there would ever be. 

But it got better.

It always gets better.

Immerse yourself in something good, don’t let yourself sit around and wallow in all those feelings of self hatred or just complete emptiness. There are so many people out there who need your help. Who need a reason to smile and a shoulder to cry on.

Be that shoulder.

Help people here, offer advice, tell people they can come to you on anon anytime they feel down. Sometimes it’s a scary responsibility, but it feels great when you can actually help someone and pull them out of something. 

Use what you are feeling as a point for how well you can identify with these other people. Put it all to good use.

It’s the good kind of karma.

But I promise. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I promise you on the lives of everyone around me. I promise you on everything that means anything to me.

It always gets better.

I love you.