Suicide? Nah.

      A friend of mine once said that she wouldn't take her own life because she loves herself. That's not how it goes for me so I replied, 'For me it's more of, I love my family more than I love myself that I wouldn't dare commit suicide.' I can't just leave my family like that- wounded and broken forever. It would be a selfish decision to kill myself without thinking about the aftermath of it. How my mom would think about when and where she went wrong. Or maybe regret the times she refused to let me go out with friends and have the best time of my life, as I put it. How I imagine her slowly sinking in her seat when she finds out that her daughter, whom she thought has dreams that are higher and bigger than hers, commited suicide. How my brother would blame himself for my death, I can almost picture him wasting his life- skipping school with his so-called friends. And my sister. I can imagine her isolating herself and wondering what went wrong with me. Thinking, is it really too much that she came to this point? And then my father. He would lose himself with alcohol and cigarette. I can't put my family in that state. They wouldn't waste their lives just for me. Never will I let suicide wound my family.

        Suicide. Such a big and heavy word. Just hearing the word sends a different sensation through my being. Because when I think of suicide, I do not think  about ropes, guns, pills, blades, poisons, towers and anything that can be used to kill oneself- I think about the reasons that pushed some to finally end their life with just a pull on the trigger or a cut on the wrist or a single jump that would end it all for them. I think of specific reasons, because surely, one reason wouldn't lead them to what they did, would it? Are they raped? Molested? Harrased? Bullied? Black-mailed? Do they have a broken family? Did someone tear them apart and dread with each and every part of them? Did they fail in a major subject? Are they neglected? Taken for granted? I wonder. Because no one really knows what's behind the curtain, the hollowness in their eyes, the sudden hair cut, the distance they put from society, from people. From life. They'd drop hints, certainly. But no one paid enough attention to notice even just the glimpse of what they're going through. I can't say it's pain or hurt. Because it's certainly a lot more than that. It would be unfair if we labeled things for them.
It's funny how some people say that they just want attention, love. Surely they do. Because if you did paid attention from the beginning, you would know. You could've prevented it from happening. But don't get me wrong- what I'm saying is, if you don't believe in their reasons, just please. Please, keep your mouths shut. They wouldn't be there anyway to hear your rants. They wouldn't be affected anymore, because for them, everything ended the moment they took their last breath. They had finally put a stop to everything that's keeping them in the dark. So your rants will be of no use then. Too late. People may call them weak for not being able to fight against the thoughts and temptations of ending their life, call them anything you want but it's not going to change the fact that they're gone forever.