I never tell anyone but I think about dying everyday. I don’t tell my boyfriend cause I don’t want him to worry, and I don’t tell my mom cause she thinks my medication helps more then it does. But I think everyday how scared I am of the future and how hard it is going to be, and how I cant avoid the changes that will happen and I just wish I could give up. But giving up wont effect anything.
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Every situation is different, so I’m not sure anything I say will be relevant to you at all. But here’s something nice to think about.
It’s hard, sometimes. My brother and I struggle with early signs of depression ourselves, inherited from our father. It is not exceptionally severe as of yet, but sometimes I cannot function. I am overcome with a sense of doom and sorrow, over something specific or nothing at all.
I think of it… as being in a boat, floating aimlessly in an endless ocean. Sometimes I find myself in the worst of storms, with no cover. I am shaken and cold and hungry and alone, and it seems like the easiest thing to do would be to fling myself into the freezing waves and end it all.
But there have been days where it wasn’t stormy. Where the water was calm, and I could lie on my back and look at the clouds, or stare into the sunset. Where I might bump into another person on their own boat, and marvel with them at a school of fish.
As I cling desperately to my boat during the harshest storms, I think back to those days. And I tell myself that no matter how bleak it might seem right now, those days truly existed. And they will exist again. That in the future there will be another day that, for whatever reason, I will be happy to be there and to be alive.
Those days will always come again. Never forget that.