I have questioned life and death more than someone my age should. Struggling with thoughts of suicide for a long time. I was scared to die but wanted it. I can recall a moment of complete despair. A moment that in my heart that I know I was going to die. I remember the very feeling in my chest as I lay in bed. The sorrow I felt knowing my life would end soon. I don’t know why that moment clicked while I thought of death so many other times. I was not crying because I wanted to die, but because I know I was going to die. That I may not kill myself then, but my life would not last much longer. I mourned my own death as if it was a forgone conclusion.
Years have passed, many I thought would be the last year of my life. Am older now than I ever thought I would be. In many ways, I still mourn the life I killed as well as the life I wasted mourning it. Still, another year ticks by. That has to count for something.