The guy who couldn’t survive,
I may not know you, but you have been the reason for my sleepless nights.
I’ve been torn in two parts after the news of your suicide came. A part of me empathizes with you. I know how it feels to reach that state of finality. I understand that for you death seemed a better place. But the other part of me says that it wasn’t for your parents. Or for your friends, who still remember cracking those late night jokes with you while looking at your lifeless body.
Depression was the reason for the chaos inside you but it left millions of people in silence.
As I said, a part of me knows you while the other pities you. A part of me understands how we depressed people believe that nothing can help us from our misery. The other parts just wanted you to talk about it to your close ones. A part of me thinks that it might have saved your life while the other knows that it wasn’t what I did for my depression.
Yes, I was in the same phase as you were. But somehow, I never wanted to end my life. Death meant fear to me. Fear to accept the failure, fear to accept that your life isn’t perfect, fear that it might never be. Depression was never fear for me. In fact, numbness is how I defined my depression. It robed me of my emotions.
Maybe I just got out of it early to not think about ending my life. To not think about the people I will be leaving behind when I die. To not care about the pain they would feel when I’m gone. Now I do. I care about people who love me. I understand the helplessness they would feel when they see my lifeless body. Yes! I got out of it early. I wish you did too. One part of me knows that everything becomes normal after sometime as it did for me while the other understands that it doesn’t for everyone.
A part of me knows that you couldn’t survive because the depression took over your mind. But the other part says that you couldn’t survive because you never tried to.
A girl who’s survived depression.