I was talking with my grandmother the other day.
I told her I wasn't feeling myself lately, and I wasn't sleeping well.
I told her I was sad and didn't know what to do.
I ended my statements with "But it's okay."
She said in a low worried tone "No it isn't."
I was taken back, but shook it off.
A few days later my mother asked me if anything was bothering me.
I said "Yes, but it's okay"
She said "No it's not."
Again I stopped in my tracks to contemplate this.
But again, I shrugged it off.
In one of my classes I was talking about suicide to a friend of mine.
I told her no one really cared, that life would go on.
To prove a point I turned to another friend of mine next to me.
I said "I want to **** myself, you don't care right? It's fine"
He was shocked.
he told me"I'm a little concerned, it isn't fine."
I was silent the rest of the class.
I had to think of how twisted my perception of the word "Okay" was.
So many people actively told me "Please stop doing this to yourself"
I couldn't listen.
I developed such a low regard for myself as a human being, saying things like "I want to die" and "If I don't **** myself first" were second nature.
I no longer saw suicide as something I had to be pushed to do.
But as something that would inevitably happen on it's own, unconsciously.
But it's okay.
It's okay.
I could say that so many times and never believe it.
Because it isn't.