He has read stories. Stories about why people write. And in one way or another, he feels related to some of them. He writes too. A couple of months ago, he wrote an article about why he writes. He said things. He outlined reasons. Reasons why he writes. He even stated how he started to write. How he began sharing his thoughts with the world. There is one more reason why he writes. Something that he doesn’t consider a problem. Because to him it, isn’t a problem. Well, that depends on how you’ll treat it.
The suicide note: Dated dd/mm/yyyy
“I write because I feel lonely. Most of the time. I am terrible at keeping friends. I am a terrible person. Right now if you approach me and ask me to mention three guys who would show up every day for a few drinks after work, trust me, there is none. I’m a terrible person.
I doubt if I had friends back in high school. Because I don’t remember doing stupid things like sneaking into the girls’ dormitory, or doing drugs or having my ass suspended or kicked out of school because of what I did in a company of my “friends”. I don’t have that history. I don’t remember sending someone with a perfumed letter to some girl from some school and then waiting so eagerly for the reply later in the evening. I don’t remember.
What do they call people like me? Sociopath, right? Why do I find it so hard to relate with other people? I don’t have someone to share my experiences with. I’m a man and I know that I’m expected by the society to be strong at all times but damn it, I got feelings too. I stopped talking with the few I thought were my friends because: one of them thinks that I screwed his girlfriend, the other one just stopped talking to me because I couldn’t help him financially, which I couldn’t at that time, and the other one has all over sudden become so fancy to an extent that I find it so hard to even call him on phone.
My life is a mess. And today, as I write this journal, I want to let everyone know that I’m really tired. I’m tired of being lonely. I’m tired of faking relationships. I’m tired of all these. And maybe no one is gonna take me seriously but please, try to help me out. I know it’s inappropriate to come to you with my social life issues but this is where there are good doctors, good psychiatrist. Help a friend. Help me. That’s my humble request.”
End of the note.
What I have come to realize is that people go through a lot. Some bad, most of them cruel. We’ve witnessed suicide cases. And most of the time, people commit suicide because of loneliness. No one to talk to. No one to comfort them. No one to help them carry the heavy burden. And these people ask for help in different ways. No one actually listens to them. Just the other day Chester, one of the Linkin Park’s band member committed suicide. And before his death, he actually talked about it in a radio interview. And the journalist laughed about it. Maybe he thought it was one of his jokes.
These people, before committing suicide, try to tell us that things are not okay. Everyday. But we choose not to listen. If I for example say today that I want to kill myself, would you take me seriously? Of course not. “People have their own issues. Issues bigger than yours.” That is what they would say. “You think killing yourself will help solve any of your problems?” Another would ask.
A suicidal person may not ask for help, but that doesn’t mean that help isn’t wanted. People who take their lives don’t want to die—they just want to stop hurting. Suicide prevention starts with recognizing the warning signs and taking them seriously. If you think a friend or family member is considering suicide, you might be afraid to bring up the subject. But talking openly about suicidal thoughts and feelings can save a life. Let us save a life.