That’s never an easy word. I was 11 when I first wanted the pain to end. I didn’t know that it had a name to it. I was 16 when I first was personally touched by suicide. July 29, 2004. 

A girl about a year younger than me that I had met through soccer took her life. 15 years old. She took her last convulsing breaths in her dad’s arms that night. She had decades ahead of her but she only could focus on the pain that occurred now. 

July 22, 2009 a young girl who was like a little sister from treatment the year before took her life after battling anorexia, trauma, and depression for years. 13 years old. She is still the one who has impacted me the most.

August 8, 2008 while I was in treatment, another young girl contacted me after she attempted to overdose and realized she wasn’t sure she was ready to go. Luckily I was able to call her dad who got upstairs to her to take her to the hospital. The pain i heard in that dad’s voice will forever be in my memory. To hear him thank me letting him know that his daughter was in the same building as him dying. 

Those who die by suicide just cannot fathom the fact of living in pain for the rest of their life. The statistics are real. They will continue to rise if it is not talked about. As stated below, 90% of those who die by suicide have a diagnosable psychiatric illness. This means that with proper help, there is hope. 

If you or someone you know is struggling, please seek help.



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