The Dismal Unknown
I know a lot of people who have a lot of problems, and they think I don't know how they feel, but I do; I've been there, too. Most don't know this, but I was really suicidal the first semester of my freshman year. It seems like ages ago, but looking back, I know I'm still not that far removed from it. No one really knows, which is why I figured I should probably share. You all know I keep things inside and don't really like to talk about my problems much, but I've found an outlet in writing, and I think it's a step, a small one surely, but a step in opening up. And I also hope that by sharing this, some people will understand me better and others will worry about me less, though the opposite may prove true. We'll see.
What happened was that I had a series of bad weeks and a lot of sad stuff happened in my life. What it was specifically doesn't really matter because it was the first time I ever became depressed. I'd never really had problems with depression before probably because of hormones or something, but this was bad. I don't think I would have actually done it, but I started contemplating suicide a lot and how much easier everything would be if there was just nothing. I don't know anymore. Maybe I would've after all. It scares me a bit to think about it now. That was before I discovered what a relief writing can be because I was just as introverted then as ever and never talked to anyone about a single one of my problems. No one even knew I had problems. At least now people notice when I'm down, but I don't think anyone even had a clue then, which is probably a pretty dangerous thing for a kid. It leaves a lot of opportunities open and not good ones either.
You're probably wondering by now "well, what happened?" and the truth is that nothing did. I just sat around thinking about death and kind of over-sleeping to escape it for so long that I got over it and came out of my slump. That spring my mom got in a really awful motorcycle accident and probably should have died, but didn't. I was depressed, of course, but it dawned on me that life can always be worse, no matter how shitty it seems at that particular moment, so I never really thought about suicide again. It seemed like a waste because, by comparison, whatever troubled me could seem so insignificant the next day since you never really know what can happen. It could be awful and put things into perspective or wonderful and make you feel better.
I've been so much more depressed at various times in the past couple years, but I always seem to get over it then something ten times worse will happen and really put things into perspective. So even if I seem really depressed, don't worry about it because suicide hasn't been an issue since then. I may be down, but I'll get over it; I always go on. Partially I feel like I owe God for saving my mom and also I know that at least one person in the world would be sad if I were gone, and that really is enough for me. It may not seem like much, but when you think about it, that one person may be someone you really care about, even if you don't know it.
So that's my story. If you think I don't know how you feel, you're wrong. I still think about death, maybe even brood on it and wonder what happens after life. I do worry whether heaven really exists or if it's just some ploy to get everyone to be civil to one another. I believe in it just because the other possibilities seem too dismal to worry about. It doesn't mean I don't think about those possibilities; I actually have a really awesome poem on the subject called "Death after Life" that you can look at if you like. But seeing as how I'll never really know what happens after death until it's too late to wonder anymore, I figure I probably have better things to ponder and spend my time on than the dismal unknown since that's all it will ever be- just the dismal unknown.