@ninja_violinist
Hey, most of y'all don't really know me. I'm kind of in the background most of the time, reading a lot of threads but a bit too awkward to say stuff.
Anyway, I've been on notebook… a while, and at some point people were struggling and saying things that… well, that I needed to respond to. I didn't really feel like it was my place at the time, and maybe it still isn't, but I think this is a time where maybe there are some people out there who need to hear this.
anyway here goes:
"No one's going to miss me"
sit down
buckle up.
This won't be pretty.
Let's break it down, shall we?
"no one is going to miss me"
frankly, I don't know why you're saying this. I don't know what your home life is like, I don't know how many friends you have, I don't know how you view yourself and what situation you're in right now. It doesn't actually matter. You know why?
Because they're not going to miss you.
Let me re emphasise.
They're not going to miss you.
Missing is what I do when my best friends are eight flight hours away. Missing is what I do when I'm homesick for a country I don't live in and a room that no longer exists. Missing is a blue emotion, tingly, aching, and yet, somehow bearable.
They're not going to miss you. They're going to mourn you. The news will slam into them over and over again until they're numb, until they think the tears won't come anymore. They'll crumple, whether literally or emotionally, into a tiny little heap of hurt onto the ground.
Missing is blue, a deep, faceted blue. Mourning, my friend, is black. Mourning has no variation, no shade, no hue. It will sit on their throat every time they think of you, dip its ugly fingers into their eyeballs and pull until everything hurts and they just want it to stop.
Don't you ever think that the worst possible result of suicide could be someone simply missing you.
I've addressed one linguistic nitpick in your choice of words. Now let's talk about what you meant when you said "no one will miss me".
"No one cares."
"No one cares about me that much."
"They'll get over it."
Tell me, who do you mean by "they", exactly? Your family? Friends? Casual acquaintances? Classmates, maybe?
Because whatever you're thinking, you're not thinking wide enough. "They" is everyone, everyone who has any idea of your existence.
"They" is the little kid that followed you around for a week, however old they are now. "They" is your friends' siblings, and the people around them, their parents, their parents' friends.
"They" is your pets. Your online friends. The kids in that youth group you went to one time.
Don't believe me? I've seen it.
In my senior year of high school, an alumnus was thwarted in his attempt at committing suicide. News got out regardless, and I found myself watching as our teacher struggled to speak with shaking lips. I found myself clinging onto his old childhood friend as she sobbed her eyes out. I found myself listening for hours on end to tearful questions, rocked to my core by my own helpless "I don't knows" at the frantic, painful "whys" and "I don't understands".
I found myself in a counselor's office, trying to understand my own numb disbelief at the suicide attempt of someone whose existence I'd only vaguely acknowledged.
It shifted my world, shifted my entire year and shifted the year of every single person I spent it with, and the person who'd attempted suicide wasn't even in the same country as we were.
I understand that you feel alone right now. I understand that it hurts. I understand that you look out into a world of ill-defined shadows who "would be better off without you".
But you need to understand that that's not a decision you get to make. You can't decide that your actions won't affect people. You can't reverse your own existence, you can only rip it out and leave a messy, broken, torn-up canvas behind.
"No one will miss me if I commit suicide."
I'm not trying to hurt you, friend. I've been where you are and I want, so badly, to make you see where you could be going.
But you must understand that every single word in that sentence is a lie.
