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

of ending


your life

your world

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.


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