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               I want to write about suicide.  I feel like it’s everywhere, it’s the new black, the hottest trend.  Having a hard time?  Kill yourself, everybody else is doing it!  Suicide has seemed particularly prevalent in my life.  I spent years convincing myself that I was suicidal, years ‘trying’ to kill myself.  But deep down, somewhere, I always knew I never wanted to succeed.  I was far too scared of the unknown to follow, too frightened to ever really want to die.  Yet I felt like my behavior, my anger and unhappiness, must be attributed to something.  So hey, why not suicidal?
Suicide is much more real to me now, now that I know I’m not there at all.  It’s opened up my eyes to take a good look at the people around me, and to realize just how many of them have tried to end their lives.  Parker Witt tried and succeeded.  Shot himself dead.  Suicide had always been more of an entity before.  People tried it, failed, got help or tried again.  But no one actually died.  Then there was Parker.  Really, truly, dead.  And suicide became all too real.
Since then, I honestly feel a bit different.  I see people whom I know are suicidal, and now I actually worry.  Before, I just figured they’d get over it and move on, like I did.  Just a phase, they’ll be fine.  Now I realize, phase or not, if they do try to kill themselves, they just might succeed.  There’s no worry-free guarantee that if they don’t mean it, they won’t die.  And then what?  I’d kill myself to join them?  I know I wouldn’t, I’m still far too afraid.  So I’d have to live on, while there were no longer there.  Knowing they were dead, and I hadn’t helped them.  I knew they might try it, I could’ve saved them…but no, I just trusted they’d be okay in the end.  Just like I’m okay.
But is living in constant fear of SUICIDE around every corner really okay?  I know what my therapist would say.  ‘It’s bad for you if you always feel that pressure.  Are those really healthy relationships?’.  But I can’t just stop caring, just remove myself from the situation.  I love them, suicidal or not.  And you know what?  I’d rather they die knowing I love them than leave them to preserve whatever sanity I have left.  Besides, I hear that sanity, just like a will to live, is overrated these days.

Description
               I want to write about suicide.  I feel like it’s everywhere, it’s the new black, the hottest trend.  Having a hard time?  Kill yourself, everybody else is doing it!  Suicide has seemed particularly prevalent in my life.  I spent years convincing myself that I was suicidal, years ‘trying’ to kill myself.  But deep down, somewhere, I always knew I never wanted to succeed.  I was far too scared of the unknown to follow, too frightened to ever really want to die.  Yet I felt like my behavior, my anger and unhappiness, must be attributed to something.  So hey, why not suicidal?
Suicide is much more real to me now, now that I know I’m not there at all.  It’s opened up my eyes to take a good look at the people around me, and to realize just how many of them have tried to end their lives.  Parker Witt tried and succeeded.  Shot himself dead.  Suicide had always been more of an entity before.  People tried it, failed, got help or tried again.  But no one actually died.  Then there was Parker.  Really, truly, dead.  And suicide became all too real.
Since then, I honestly feel a bit different.  I see people whom I know are suicidal, and now I actually worry.  Before, I just figured they’d get over it and move on, like I did.  Just a phase, they’ll be fine.  Now I realize, phase or not, if they do try to kill themselves, they just might succeed.  There’s no worry-free guarantee that if they don’t mean it, they won’t die.  And then what?  I’d kill myself to join them?  I know I wouldn’t, I’m still far too afraid.  So I’d have to live on, while there were no longer there.  Knowing they were dead, and I hadn’t helped them.  I knew they might try it, I could’ve saved them…but no, I just trusted they’d be okay in the end.  Just like I’m okay.
But is living in constant fear of SUICIDE around every corner really okay?  I know what my therapist would say.  ‘It’s bad for you if you always feel that pressure.  Are those really healthy relationships?’.  But I can’t just stop caring, just remove myself from the situation.  I love them, suicidal or not.  And you know what?  I’d rather they die knowing I love them than leave them to preserve whatever sanity I have left.  Besides, I hear that sanity, just like a will to live, is overrated these days.