I hovered in this place for years as a teenagers. Except I was too chicken to ever hurt myself. I just waited to die. Now I’m in my 30’s and when I wake up in the morning I think, “Huh. I’m not dead. Never thought I’d make it this far. Guess I’ll see what new Hell I get to experience.” *Gets out of bed*
You aren’t chicken. It’s amazing you made it into your thirties! I hope you’re proud of yourself, because you deserve to be. I hope I can be as strong as you are one day.
This how I have thought for years and sadly the end picture is how my family thinks which is only reason why nothing happened because of guilt that I’m selfish and that it is wrong.
I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, but please hang on. There’s always a chance things will get better! I hope your family comes to understand the selfless decision you’re making for them every day.
I’ve actually had thoughts like this since I was in 2nd grade when I would go to bed I’m in high school now and the thoughts have been happening more often I still keep thinking how far I can make if even at all.
I feel bad about asking for help because we cant really afford it… It just makes everything worse when i feel like a parasite… Society shouldn’t make getting help so. Fucking. Hard. And so expensive. Its not fair to the families and friends of people with depression.
The way people think who are not suffering makes me so angry. We try not to be selfish, but people see it that way, and in reality, it is they who are the selfish ones
Funnily enough (well, for certain, non-amusing values of funny), thoughts similar to the last panel helped me leave suicidal thoughts behind. Along with procrastination, of course. Once I had reasoned to myself that 1.) it won’t improve my life (obviously), 2.) it will just leave people I care about to deal with my messes and 3.) I would probably postpone any attempts indefinitely (while being too unfocused and indecisive to make use of spontaneous opportunities), I was able to at first meet any suicidal thoughts with a firm no and later push them out of my mind almost entirely. It was only years later that I realized that I needed – and could get – help. Today, I’m still a mess. Also, still alive.
I hovered in this place for years as a teenagers.
Except I was too chicken to ever hurt myself.
I just waited to die.
Now I’m in my 30’s and when I wake up in the morning I think, “Huh. I’m not dead. Never thought I’d make it this far. Guess I’ll see what new Hell I get to experience.” *Gets out of bed*
You aren’t chicken. It’s amazing you made it into your thirties! I hope you’re proud of yourself, because you deserve to be. I hope I can be as strong as you are one day.
This how I have thought for years and sadly the end picture is how my family thinks which is only reason why nothing happened because of guilt that I’m selfish and that it is wrong.
I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, but please hang on. There’s always a chance things will get better! I hope your family comes to understand the selfless decision you’re making for them every day.
I’ve actually had thoughts like this since I was in 2nd grade when I would go to bed I’m in high school now and the thoughts have been happening more often I still keep thinking how far I can make if even at all.
When my brother committed suicide I was angry with him and felt he had been so selfish… #knife in my heart
I’m sorry
and haven’t they thought why he did that in a first place? 🙁
I feel bad about asking for help because we cant really afford it… It just makes everything worse when i feel like a parasite… Society shouldn’t make getting help so. Fucking. Hard. And so expensive. Its not fair to the families and friends of people with depression.
The way people think who are not suffering makes me so angry.
We try not to be selfish, but people see it that way, and in reality, it is they who are the selfish ones
That’s always the 1st thing we think of…
Funnily enough (well, for certain, non-amusing values of funny), thoughts similar to the last panel helped me leave suicidal thoughts behind. Along with procrastination, of course.
Once I had reasoned to myself that 1.) it won’t improve my life (obviously), 2.) it will just leave people I care about to deal with my messes and 3.) I would probably postpone any attempts indefinitely (while being too unfocused and indecisive to make use of spontaneous opportunities), I was able to at first meet any suicidal thoughts with a firm no and later push them out of my mind almost entirely. It was only years later that I realized that I needed – and could get – help.
Today, I’m still a mess. Also, still alive.