One thing I find a lot of people don’t understand is that suicide isn’t really selfish. Selfish are the people who have so much and take more. Selfish are the people who completely disregard others. Even so, it’s okay to be a little selfish. That said, try your best to live on. There are people who will miss you, people who love you. People who care. I’m not saying this to guilt you. I’m saying this because there is always someone to turn to. I’m pointing out the obvious, right? There is so much you can accomplish in the time you have left. So, so much.
I won’t tell you to “cheer up”. I know it doesn’t happen just like that, and you can’t force it. It’ll take time and care. Do everything with purpose, and without regret. Take the time to slow down a little.
Here’s a rhetorical question: Who are you? Are you the mask you paint for others, or are you the person you paint for yourself? Without prying into your exact problem, the best advice I can give you is to worry about yourself before everyone else. You can be whoever you like, so long as you are happy. You are your own person.
And do you know what? You’re not weak. You called for help back in February, right? That’s seven months ago. That’s a long time. Weakness is relative. Compared to some people, I am weak. Compared to others, I am strong. But when there is nobody else in the room, I’m neither weak nor strong. Being stuck in a bad place is not weak. And if you still think you’re weak, weak is still okay. It doesn’t change your good qualities, or who you are, really. It just means that you need a friend to rely on. And that’s okay. Dependence is a good thing. People like to be needed. It might take a lot of courage to ask someone you know for help, but if they’re willing to listen, it’s totally worth it. Instead of defining yourself by your weaknesses, why not look at your strengths? What are you good at? What are the things that make you happy? Happiness is a strength. You’re opening up a little to someone/something.
Everytime I feel bad about who I am, or something that makes me unhappy, I make a crane. I only started this year, and already I have 378. But that’s potentially 378 scars that never happened. (I’ve stopped cutting entirely when I met my best friend.) Once I feel better about the problem, or I solve the problem, the crane is hung with his/her friends, wings open, ready to fly away. I won’t let the cranes fly far, though. I need the bad times to show me how much the good times mean to me. How much I appreciate the little things in life.
I’m sorry it took so long to get back to you. And I’m not sorry for the length. I really hope that there is something in here to help you.