You are worth more than pain

A letter from me to you: You’re sitting in your room- door locked- with a pen in your hand and a blank piece of paper in front of you. Your hand is shaking and the tears begin to fall for the third time in the past hour. “To my family,” you write at the top of the page, but decide it’s a bad way to begin your letter- your suicide letter. You try again, starting over, again and again, but you don’t know how to begin. No one understands you; no one knows what you’re going through. You’re alone, or at least that’s the way you feel. Nobody would care if you died or lived, you mean nothing. It’s late at night and you slip into bed. “Goodbye,” you whisper into the darkness. And with that, you take your very last breath and end it all. No body cares, right? Well you thought wrong. It’s a Thursday the following morning, and at 7:04 your mother comes and knocks on your door. She doesn’t know you can’t hear her, she doesn’t know you’re gone. She knocks a few more times, calling your name to open up. When there is no reply from your side of the door, she opens it with the key and screams. She collapses on the ground, sobbing, while your dad rushes to your room. Your siblings have already left for school. Your suddenly weak and horrified mother collects all the energy she has to walk over to your bed. She leans over your dead body, crying, squeezing your hand, screaming. Your dad is trying to stay strong, but the tears escape his eyes; he calls 911 with his left hand while his right is on your mother’s back. Your mother blames herself. All those times she had said no to you, all those times she screamed at you, all those times she sent you to your room over something stupid. Your father blames himself for not being there for you when you asked for help, for not saying “I love you” enough, for being away from home at work for long. Nobody cares, right? 8:34: There’s a knock on your classroom door. It’s the school principal. Your classmates have never seen her looking so distraught. She calls the teacher to the side, everyone worries “what’s going on?” The principal then announces that you have committed suicide. That popular girl who had called you ugly and talked about you behind your back blames herself. The kid who would always copy your homework but then treat you like crap blames himself. The boy that sits behind you, the one who always threw things at you during class, blames himself too. He should have told you how much he actually liked you before it was too late. The teacher blames herself, for all those times she’d get angry at you for forgetting your homework and for not realizing how much pain you were in before your death. People are crying, screaming, and completely shocked, regretting all they did or didn’t do. They are all devastated, even the people you’ve never talked to before. But still, nobody cares about you, right? It’s 3:23. Your siblings get home. Your mother has to tell them that you’re gone; forever. She has to break the news that you didn’t die in a car crash, you didn’t die from cancer, but that you intentionally killed yourself because you felt that there was no other choice. Your little sister always loved you, no matter how many times she screamed at you, told you she hated you, and stole your stuff. She saw you as her hero, her role model. And now she’ll never be able to tell you that. She starts to blame herself; “Why didn’t I do what she told me to do when she asked?” “Why did I take her stuff even when she asked me not to?” “Why did I never tell her how much she meant to me?” “This is all my fault.” Your older brother hears the news; the boy that never cries, the boy who’s stronger than anyone else at your school, both mentally and physically- or so you thought. He’s now in his room, kicking the walls, shattering glass, sobbing over the fact that he didn’t help you, that he didn’t even try. He thinks he caused your death, he knows he did. All those times he played pranks on you, laughed at you. He doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that you’re gone, forever. He blames himself. Nobody cares about you, right? It has been over a month. The door to your room has been closed all this time, no one has even had the strength to go inside since the day you died. Everything is different now. Your brother stopped trying in school, stopped playing football, started doing drugs. Your little sister cries everyday, still waiting for you to come back while knowing you never will. Everyday she waits for you to come back home, as if you’re still alive. The popular girl now has an eating disorder, that’s how she stays in control despite the guilt she feels. These people don’t know how to deal with the pain that they’re feeling. Your father has depression and hates coming home from work; your mother hasn’t slept for days, knowing your death is all her fault. She’s been crying and screaming every night, wishing for you to come back. She has nightmares. The boy who would always bother you got kicked out of school for violence. The boy that copied your homework now self-harms. But nobody cares about you, am I right? Your mother finally decides to go clean out your room. But she can’t do it. She’s locked herself in your room for two days to try to clean up your clothes, your things. But she can’t. She can’t say goodbye to you, not yet, not now. Never. She lies on your floor bawling instead. It’s your funeral. It’s big- everyone from your school shows up. No one knows what to say. The beautiful girl no longer has a gorgeous smile, or one at all. The boys, who had refused to dress up even for school dances, are wearing black suits. The guy who liked you puts a rose on your coffin. No one knows what to say, they’re still shocked. Everyone cries, everyone misses you, or wishes they had the chance to get to know you at all. They all wish you’d come back, but you don’t, and you never will. You can’t see how much everyone cares now that you’re gone. Still think nobody cares about you? Think again. Even if people don’t show it, they care about you, they love you. If you kill yourself today or any other day you won’t know just how much you mean to people. Death will stop your pain, but it’ll also stop your happiness, your adventures, your life. You’ll have your ups and downs, but that’s just a part of it. And believe me, I know that it may feel like you have way more bad things in your life than good, but you won’t always. Sometimes you have to go through the bad to appreciate the good. But how are you supposed to appreciate anything if you’re gone? You might not see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s there. No matter how hard life gets, never give up on yourself because you are more than your pain. Every single one of you is a beautiful and special person, and even if you can’t see that, I certainly can. Your life is the biggest gift you will ever have, and although at times you wish you could just disappear, it will get better. I promise.