I’m Curious

Why is it that folks suddenly pop up saying how much they care when they think you’re going to kill yourself, but they don’t do so before then? I mean, wouldn’t it be more believable if you showed it prior to said declaration, or implication?

 

I don’t understand that.

 

Due to having been the one to discover my best friend’s dead body after he committed suicide when I was twelve,  I’ve not had any sympathy for those who killed themselves. I’ve always maintained they were supremely selfish, and cowards. I still think so, but, I sympathise with them a bit more. See, I suffer from depression. Every so often, it creeps up, and dropkicks me in the back of the nugget. I start to beat myself up, going over, and over, and over, all the ways I’ve hurt those I love. I start to think it would be better for them if I were no longer around. Or, I wonder if someone, anyone, really cares about me. When I am in that dark place, the answer always comes up, “No.” And then I start to think I should end my life because, what’s the point in living if no one cares about you, right?

 

But, there is something that stops me every single time. Let me tell you: It’s not noble, or selfless at all. I don’t kill myself because if I do, it’s all over. No more learning. No more hearing the sound of the love of my life’s voice. No more hearing her laughter. No more learning about our world, and universe. There would be no more long walks during the summer. No more dreams about the future.

I’m selfish that way.