Am not sure i can ever escape death, depression, and suicide. There is a very good chance i don’t want to. Am often seeking out sad stories, everytime suicide pops up in both fiction and nonfiction i want to know the story. Is it because i can easily relate? Somewhere out there right now is a little boy, begging for help in the night, tired of life he wishes to take his life. My heart breaks for him, as i hoped someone would for me when i was on that floor, begging anyone to save me.
I don’t enjoy watching other people suffer, so why am i so drawn to such stories? Perhaps i just want to cry for them, to cry for the lost and the lonely. I’ve cried a lot in my life, i grow tired of it, but now…. I don’t know what i feel now. I feel my heart open, and my mind clear when am absorbed into such tales. Sometimes it’s healthy to cry to such things.
Even the most lonely of us support each other in this world. As even the smallest amount of interaction supports me, i support others the same. Somewhere out there there is a boy suffering, while he thinks of suicide there is another out there watching him, the only thing keeping them going is knowing this boy is bearing that burden. When that one person dies, all of his supports go with him, the people that were helping him, and the people that little did he know he was helping.