This post is not to attack or to argue, simply to share a different perspective, no matter how unpopular it may be.
As someone who has gone through depression and been suicidal (fortunately, unsuccessfully), perspective is the last thing that you are thinking about. Consider what it takes for a person to feel so miserable that they want to end their life. The pain that they are going through, and the heaviness with which they spend every day.
I am not saying that it isn’t possible to hold on, to get help and to change. I did it. But there was a point when I didn’t care what my twin sister would be reading at my funeral, or how my mom would cope. I held my dad while he cried and do not have a single memory of my little brother for a time-span of a year. It wasn’t because I was being selfish and not believing that the world needed me. It was because it took everything I had to get out of bed in the morning. I wasn’t giving up and I wasn’t fishing for attention. I was broken. And I didn’t believe in me. That’s what saves a person, their belief in themselves. Not everybody else’s belief in them.
It’s sad and it’s unfair and it’s hard. But saying that someone is beautiful, isn’t going to make them believe it. Sure it helps some of the time, but you decide how you feel about yourself. If you don’t believe that you’re worth it, it doesn’t matter how much you actually are, because the person who needs to believe it the most, doesn’t. And all you can do, as the friends, the family, the strangers, is be supportive. Don’t give up on them, but don’t take their burden as your responsibility. It’s not your fault. And it never will be.
This is the best analogy I know of to describe what a suicidal person is feeling: It’s like being trapped at the top of a burning building. All those people on the ground are begging you not to jump, but they don’t realize that dying slowly from smoke inhalation would be far more painful than the alternative.
So don’t call it selfish. People don’t choose to get cancer so that people will care. Depression is the same thing. What you do choose, is to get help. To let yourself be helped. You don’t choose to die. You choose to live.
"Today, after a 72 hour shift at the fire station, a woman ran up to me at the grocery store and gave me a hug. When I tensed up, she realized I didn’t recognize her. She let go with tears of joy in her eyes and the most sincere smile and said, “On 9-11-2001, you carried me out of the World Trade Center.”
So you want to kill yourself? Because no one cares about you. Your family hates you. Right? No. Your parents walking in your room in the morning to only find a dead body. They’ll try their hardest to not think negative, and to just think that you’re fooling around. Then they’ll start shaking you. Why aren’t you breathing? They’ll be broken. Tears. Many tears. More tears than you ever shed. Was it them? Were they the reason you did this? More tears. Pain. Every day. Every night. Every single second of every day. Guilt. More guilt. What about your bestfriends? They’re not going to care. Right? No. What’s the first thing that will go through their mind when your principal comes in and tells the class that you’re not alive. While your bestfriend sits there in tears. That girl that you’d smile at but never talk to? She’s now crying. The boy who used to kick you under the table just to annoy you? He’ll be shocked. He’ll be devastated. He’ll blame himself. What about your teacher? Thoughts crossing her mind. She’ll question if you did it because she didn’t make school comfortable enough for you. Pain. Devastation. All in one. Who organises your funeral? Who has to go through your stuff? Clothes? Notes? Those few older girls who used to give you daggers at school? They’ll feel regret. They’ll blame themselves. See, if you killed yourself today, you’ll never know what might of happened tomorrow. You’ll never know because you’re dead. Plain dead. Not breathing. Not alive. Just dead. Your family hates themselves for it. Your bestfriend then falls into depression. Tears. Tears. More tears than a river. All because you killed yourself because you thought noone would care. Right? You are loved. By many. Someone right now is thinking of you. And right now, I’m thinking about anyone who has thought or is considering suicide. You are beautiful. No matter if you’re black, white, homo-sexual, tall, short, overweight or anorexic. You are beautiful. You want to kill yourself? Think about it first. There’s no coming back. And I promise, if you do it, you are not only hurting yourself, you are hurting many. You are creating more tears than you led yourself to. You are making everyone miserable and making them all feel guilt and pain. Never will they feel whole like they used to when they had you. You are beautiful. And you are never ever alone.