u/Bad_cookie

I think about how many people have committed suicide and continue to do so everyday. So many people fall though the cracks, are abandoned, or end up as just another statistic. There are people who regret their choice right away and it changes their life if they survive. But what about the people that convince themselves not to do it but go on to do just suffer more and die anyway? What about the people that attempt it repeatedly until it works? I look at everyone around me and I feel like I'm missing something. A spark, a beat of life, a desire for something. Whatever it is either I wasn't born with it or something broke it inside me. I feel like an alien. I wish I could tear my skin off and tear it apart so I can finally feel a release.