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Not A Suicide Letter

…Someday, a little of that light will find it’s way into my heart. Till then, I wait. I thought about ending it again, today. Seated on the balcony of my empty apartment, surrounded by crickets and night flies and butterflies and worms, I thought about going over to the great beyond. I hadn’t thought about...

…Someday, a little of that light will find it’s way into my heart. Till then, I wait.

I thought about ending it again, today. Seated on the balcony of my empty apartment, surrounded by crickets and night flies and butterflies and worms, I thought about going over to the great beyond.

I hadn’t thought about it in months, until today. I had thought that things were getting better — that I was getting better. Every day I would wake up and smile, shining my light on everyone I could find on my way out and about, hoping to make their lives a little better. And when I got back to the sanctuary of my empty apartment, I’d tell myself that I was fine and that everything was fine. I was surrounded by darkness, having exhausted all my light on those around me, but that was okay — I was okay.

But today was different, the lies I told myself rang empty. The chants and the mantras and inspirational quotes I’d been feeding myself rang empty and hollow, and all I could focus on was my anxiety screaming at me and goading me, a singular thought was nothing if not the honest and raw truth – I want it all to end.

I was tired of having to fake a smile while inside I felt like I was on fire, and smoked filled my lungs. Smoke from the pain and misery of the past, a past that I couldn’t escape from. Every day I told myself that I was stronger and that I wasn’t defined by whatever had happened, whatever I had endured. I told myself, you get antsy whenever it’s getting dark but it means nothing, you are suspicious of every other guy, but that’s normal. Those random flashbacks are just dreams, you’re not hallucinating, you just need more sleep. You’re sleeping ten hours twice daily, but you’re just tired. And you’re not intentionally skipping meals, you just aren’t hungry. And the past isn’t repeating itself, everything is fine, you’re fine.

And to some extent, at some point, I began to think maybe, just maybe I could believe in it. But I didn’t. I never believed all those fervent assertions of what I hoped my reality was, I kept faking it but didn’t make it, I’m still broken.

And that’s why I thought about ending it again, today.
I know it could get better, I know it most likely will; but nothing lasts forever.

This pain, this loneliness and deep dissatisfaction will come back someday, and I might not be strong enough to resist. But today, today I am strong enough. Or maybe I want to be, but I’m not, not yet. But I’m willful enough to try.

Everywhere hurts, my mind spins and I can barely breathe, tears fall from my cheeks as I gasp for a reprieve and fervently pray to be anywhere, to feel anything asides from this mind-numbing pain that cripples me, telling me that I can’t control it, I can’t control anything — not even myself. This fear, the restlessness and the nagging doubt in my heart that everything I work for could as well be useless. I’m running on a treadmill — my strength is draining but I’m still stuck in place. I don’t want to be here.
And it seems, surrounded by all these people who say they love me and they care, I’m still alone. I want it to end.

I know someday when the pain grips me I will not be able to resist it because peace seems better to me than these long, cold nights of anguish, and brokenness, I don’t expect you to understand, I don’t expect anyone to.

There’s no light at the end of this tunnel, and yet I’m walking. I can’t see, there are voices around me, pulling me in different directions and yet I cannot move, frozen in time.

And yet, I fight. It seems better to give up and give in, it doesn’t seem worth it to continue. And yet, yet I thrive.

I thought about ending it today, I’ll be honest and say I still do.

But I also thought about waiting it out, if only to prove the inspirational speakers wrong and tell them it really doesn’t get better. I thought about waiting it out, for a day when the sparks I gave so freely to everyone around will return to charge me back up again, and I wouldn’t feel so tired anymore.

I thought about waiting, for the love I gave around to come back around, for the light to find me, and to look in the mirror and see my genuine smile, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment.

And as I weighed ending it today, and waiting it out till tomorrow, a night-fly flew about and around me, and it rested on my shaky hands, as though it meant to lend me some of its light, just for a moment till I found my spark again.

And so, I leaned back and closed my eyes, my tear-stained face despondent and sober, and I waited. One minute, two, and countless more until the sun came up.

Someday, a little of that light will find it’s way into my heart. Till then, I wait.

You can too.

— Elienai Julius.

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