To the people who want to die: my inclination is to tell you that it’ll get better for you, this life will get better and I hope you stick around to find out. But I’ve been where you are, some degree of it, and I know words like that don’t help. If anything, they can feel like an assault. They can feel disingenuous and cold. So instead I’m going to tell you about you and I’m going to tell you about me. Once, we were little kids. We were small and fragile and we knew things but we didn’t KNOW things. We likely knew water is wet, floors are firm, smiles are for positive feelings and crying usually means sadness. Basic stuff. Then we got older, we’re teenagers. Reality went off-kilter, suddenly we’re not experiencing things through simply eyes of wonder and curiosity–no, now we have to contend with intrusive thoughts. Intrusive thoughts and mental fogginess. Other people hurting us in a way that we can understand enough to remember and then become scarred by. Things get heavy, life gets heavy, it gets harder and harder to see through eyes of wonder and curiosity. Your heart hurts, my heart hearts. Time keeps passing and we feel suffocated by it. Our thoughts and our feelings really are just that, though, thoughts and feelings. If we base our well-being on our emotions, the heightened and lowered and all the degrees in between emotions, it can be absolutely destructive. I want you to live. Fully live. I want you to know you’re not alone. We can email, I don’t mind, whatever you need. Simply ask for my email address or whatnot