I Don’t Know Who My First Heartbreak Was. Maybe It Was All Of Them, Maybe None Of Them. Maybe It Was

A part of suicidal ideation or self harm no one talks about is the numbness to the subject that comes with it. I sit and scroll through pages and pages of cries for help, suicide notes and plans and feel nothing. No worry, no concern, no crushing feeling in my chest. Nothing. Those familiar feelings are now replaced with a strange familiarity, a kind of comfort that it’s not just me.

Fuck. When did it get to this

If they act like they can live without you, let them

“I really need you to pick me. I really need you to stay. Please just pick me. I don’t have any dignity left at this moment, I’m swallowing all my pride and I’m asking you to pick me. Please just stay.”

— can’t you see how much I love you

The thing is once you start thinking about killing yourself you can never go back. It becomes this option, that you can't unsee or stop thinking off. Whenever things get tough again it comes back to haunt you. There'll always be this voice whispering 'wouldn't it all be easier if you died' and you can never get rid of it

“I think hell is something you carry around with you. Not somewhere you go.”

— Neil Gaiman

“Just because someone hurts you doesn’t mean you can simply stop loving them. It’s not a person’s actions that hurt the most. It’s the love. If there was no love attached to the action, the pain would be a little easier to bear.”

— Colleen Hoover, It Ends with Us