Suicide follows me.

I don’t, i refuse to keep my connection to suicide secret. I have spent so much of my life with its weight its hardly a wonder that i see it as part of who i am. I wanted to die, at times it scared me, other times i was at peace with the idea of dieing. Despite that, am still alive. My thoughts where on the subject so much, that even in a period of my life that i don’t want to die i still think often of the subject. Its personal for me, i often walk walk to the train station, visiting the memorial of two girls who stepped in front of a train as a third girl watched on the bridge above them. I think of what there thoughts might of been like, and compare them to the pain i had.

A close family friend died last week. She was like an aunt to me, and i will miss her. Last night her husband felt he could not take the loneliness any longer and tried to end his own life. He failed in his attempt, and his future from here is still very undecided. So my thoughts turn to suicide again, feeling great empathy for such pain that life is no longer worth living. The lack of knowledge others have on the subject does not help the matter. Many people do not know how to even talk to someone like this, and fail to try and understand.

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