You want to end it?
Think of this.
You write your suicide note... And you set it on the table.
You take your razor, your silver, two inch razor. And you start to slide it across your wrist. You barely feel a thing. After all, the pain of life is more than the pain of the blade.
And you take that belt you never wore, the one that was too tight, the one you starved yourself to fit into. And you wrap it once, twice around your neck... and you pull it tight.
Barely breathing, you put the ends of the belt on something to hold you up.
Something to strangle you.
Something to kill you.
And you die.
And that's the end, right?
So, so wrong.
Your younger brother, the four year old little boy that you loved so much. He walks into your room, only to find you hanging there, lifelessly. Only to find you with dried tears on your pale face. Only to find your suicide note... the one you left right before you died.
And so he runs in tears to your mother. And she reads the note, barely able to breathe from the thought of it.
And soon, the word gets around. You committed suicide. You're done. You're gone. It's over.
The girl who told you that you were fat... she admits that you were beautiful. She felt so bad, she became anorexic.
The boy who told you that you were ugly... he admits that you were special. He felt so bad, he began to cut himself.
The person who told you that you were stupid... he admits he was jealous. He felt so bad, he slipped into a depression due to guilt.
Your younger brother grows up, blaming himself for your suicide every day. Your mother cries at night until she falls asleep, that is, if she sleeps at all. Your father has a meltdown that causes him to turn into an alcoholic. Your sister attempted a suicide because she blamed herself, too.
Everybody misses you. Everybody wants you back.
Now let's go back to right now.
you think you want to end it?
That razor. That silver, two inch razor. I know, sometimes the pain of life is worse than the pain brought to you by the blade.
But do you know how many people need you?
Do you know how many people love you?
Do you know how many people want you to stay?
Someone is thinking of you.
So think of them, too.