I’ve always been pretty vocal when it came to National Suicide Prevention Week. Or The Lines Project. I worked on To Write Love On Her Arms street team for years long before I even moved to Florida.
Suicide in the recent years have become more of a public issue than it ever was. Claiming the lives of Robin Williams and Chester from Linkin Park. And yet people still refuse to change the conversation or even have the conversation. And as long as their a stigma to it, the problem will never be solved.
I was 13 when I leaned my head back against the wall during lunch with my two best friends at the time; Amanda and Raven. I blurted out “sometimes I just want to die.” Raven thought that was a weird thing to say and Amanda just slightly nodded. I was always painted the fuck up in the family. It didn’t matter what I did, said or tried to fix things. There was always something that made someone mad. There was always something that made someone feel to compelled to tell me, a small child, that I wasn’t smart enough. That I wasn’t going to make it. That I was a failure. And so I kept those word burned in my ears for a very very long time. I slept in class frequently in middle school and high school. I just didn’t care.
What was there to care about when everyone thought you were a fuck up anyway?Continue reading “National Suicide Prevention Week”