have you ever felt so sad that your heart hurts?
have you ever felt so numb
that you start questioning if you were ever even alive in the first place?
have you ever felt so consumed with self-loathing
that taking a razor to your skin feels like pleasure, not a sin?
have you ever felt so alone,
that the only person you talk to is yourself,
but even then, that person only speaks words of hatred
jumping at the chance to tear you down,
rip you to pieces, chew you up and spit you out,
hacking up your self esteem
torching your love, drowning your optimism?
if you have never felt like this
consider yourself very lucky
because that means that the thought
has never made its dwelling in your mind
a parasite burrowing and burrowing
deeper and deeper,
eating away at your brain
gnawing at your logic, chewing on your sensibility
if you have never felt the aching pain of depression
as it takes over your body
clutching your heart tightly
weighing you down.
the unwanted visitor
the parasite that sucks every ounce of life out of you
until you are a broken shell of a person,
then calling suicide “selfish” is ignorant.
it is ignorant because you have lived your life in brightness
a life painted in neon ink
you have never fallen down the bleak, cold rabbit hole,
so how dare you pass judgement on people who don’t know how to get out of it.
if you think suicide is selfish,
then you have simply never been depressed before.