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Jason Jun 12

~Trigger Warning - depression, suicidal ideation, and imagery representing a claustrophobic situation.~

Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

This is my depression and suicidal ideation from my point of view.

Imagine you are inside of a 12'x12' room.
The walls of this room are made of tempered glass and standing outside are your closest friends and family.
The room has an unpleasantly smoky scent.
None of your friends or family seem to detect the smell, but
it makes you uncomfortable.
More time passes and you notice that the odor has intensified, it is much stronger now and
it makes you uneasy.
Time slowly passes and enduring the stench begins to seem impossible, your friends and family still seem to take no note,
you are worried.
You attempt to alleviate the horrible stench but you cannot locate any doors or windows.
Having made this realization, you search again hoping to find an exit, but your search finds nothing,
you feel trapped.
You remember the ax, but that is far too drastic.
Smoke begins to lace the air in thin tendrils, adding to the funk.
You turn to your friends and family, but it is hard to see them through the building smoke, and they do no hear your calls,
you are scared.
You search the small room again, hoping to find some previously missed means of escape, but again find no escape.
You desperately being pounding on the glass walls, choking as you cry out to your loved ones for help.
Finally noticing your pleas, they begin to work wheels and levers on their sides, but nothing seems to have an effect.
The smoke now permeates the air and it is hard to breathe,
you feel panicked.
The temperature in the room has risen along with the building smoke, and you frantically search for some means of escape, your eyes fall upon the ax, but you dare not, lest you hurt those you love standing just on the other side.
Your family sporadically press buttons and flip switches to little effect, you can see their desire to help and the pain in their faces.
You feel responsible for their pain, and
you feel helpless.
You cough and stare listlessly, unsure of what to do.
You see only a few loved ones beyond the smoke and glass.
The ax catches your eye again, taunting from its garishly red perch, offering escape, but only at a horrible cost.
It seems hopeless.

What would you do?

We, the readers, have an escape route that the protagonist of this story does not possess. We can choose to leave the metaphor behind, easily dismissing these words and waking from this seeming nightmare.

A person struggling with suicide may perceive there to be only one way out.

In my metaphor there is no ceiling, to signify that with a little help we can climb out of the box.

It can be very difficult to know what a loved one is feeling when in the grip of a deep depression, and it is can be exceedingly difficult for someone in such a state to relay their feelings accurately, or to talk about them at all.

If you have a friend or loved one suffering from depression there is help and many resources. Educate yourself, your help could mean everything to someone. Check out:
Jaicob May 25
One more word, and I'll blow up.
One more day, and I'll grow up.
One more drink, and I'll throw up.
One more week, and I'll give up..

But words don't have to be said-,
Growing is an ongoing process,
Drinks don't have to be alcohol,
And help is easily available.

You don't have to give up like me. We can work through this, okay?
Benzene May 1
If prevention is better than cure .
Not falling in love is better than heartbreak.
It's just a thought  that hit my mind when I was reading news.
Such kind of thoughts hit my mind daily, may be I'll post such more thoughts.
kevin wright Mar 14
Cloaked eyes of white
Open throat cries dry
Echoed padding cadence
Panting tremours
Unable to get away

The streets are unsafely empty
Equality to walk
No illiberal clocking in
I have a cogent life
Will not cede segregation

The struggle, snapped the stem
Stole the stamen from my flower
Shook my pollenous verve
Scattered my soulful scent
Destroyed my confidence to regrow

Sneering the lonesome wolf
Crushes the very flowers that will save it
Without heart of virtue
Praying  on those they cannot have
Betrays their own soul without anguish

Proto-stalkers seek help
Decant your desires
Throw off your fur coat
Open up and do not venture into a nightmare
Your Samaritan will always befriend and guide

Lay down your sword
Change the parochial pathway
Magnanimous now live
Fields of flowers beckon
Don't be a brick in the wall

Embrace the feminine essence
Yield flowers their blossom
Steer the legislation to counter the wolven spread
More tulips amongst thorny parliamentarians
Educate the children and those in power
Society needs to support  those who are vulnerable which ever side of the coin lands looking up at the world. In memorial.
Shannon Soeganda Dec 2020
Tell me,

what are the things that fascinate you most?

Things that make your eyes sparkle aglow,

that soothe your awry, unrest, stirred soul.

Some are fascinated with their fiery, burning passion of life,

and some others are fascinated with their own death.

I am one of the latter.
Since you're too heavy, it's almost a joke to hang yourself, Shannon. Find another alternative.
Coleman M Lowe Oct 2020
There I was,
in the very depths of despair.
In a place so very dark.
And I no longer cared.
I had closed my eyes,
As I said my final prayers.
I had made up my mind,
I would no longer be there,
I'd be gone,
As soon as I finished my prayer.
But when I opened my eyes,
There was an angel standing there.
She told me how much,
The Lord loved me.
And that he'd never,
Not once,
Forgotten about me
I know not her name. But the Lord sent her to me when i was ready to give up and forfeit my life while in the depths of depression. Thank you.
Joshua Phelps Sep 2020
One year since your passing,
I didn't know I still wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Unlike the other lives lost in years past,
Yours cut me deeper than the rest.

Like watching an older version of myself,
Carry out a wish I could never fully attempt,
It left me mortified, scared I may follow in your footsteps.

Months later, dreams came and went.
I'd often wake up, wondering why I'd envision myself
Jumping off the Eads Bridge.

I never thought I'd be having these thoughts again.

They say history repeats itself.
But I promise you: I won't repeat the same mistakes.
I won't become a part of the past.
My brother took his life on Sept. 8, 2019, two days before World Suicide Prevention Day. The title "Suicide September" is a cryptic reminder of the month my brother took his life and the year that followed the moment I realized I'm still not okay.

But I will be.
ChillNPsyco Aug 2020
My blood I willingly spill onto the page
It takes the form of words to engage
A written expression of my life's insanity
It exposes my darkest truths for all to see
Unwilling to admit it's existence to myself
Darkest of thoughts I place upon a shelf
Behind my smile I've concealed this reality
I fear the possibility of my broken mentality
Would others not think this to be true
If asked for help what would they do
It goes unnoticed each time I reach out
That someone cares I begin to doubt
Hope I once held slowly fades away
Deeper into this depression I fall each day
Why does no one care enough to see
The emptiness I've hidden is killing me
Someone to talk with I have not found
Paper now keeps me mentally sound
With pen in hand I have learned to speak
In poetry I have a voice that's unique

Its about dealing with my depression and finding, through poetry, a positive outlet for my suicidal thoughts.
ChillNPsyco Aug 2020
I reach out but no one hears
    Within the silence are my worst fears

Why do I look for reason in every day
    I tell myself I no longer wish to stay

The pain reminds me I'm still here
    Always pushing away never pulling near

All this time alone woundering why
    To be a part of this life at times I try

A room filled with many I'm still alone
    A feeling not changed in an empty room at home

This life perhaps never ment to be
    For so many yes maybe not for me

Whispers in the dark voices I can't see
    Often they convince its time to fly free

Light fills my eyes each day I wake
    This life is not mine...
                            Not mine to take!?
I want to heal you
But I cannot feel your pain
Please open the door
Ive seen your eyes rain
You feel so hopeless
Yet a smile you feign
Crying cant help you
Let me be your drain
Call out for help
Before you walk down the wrong lane
I refuse to watch you
End your pain
CALL FOR HELP: 1-800-273-8255
Trusted and loved ones are always also an options
Join the fight to prevent suicide, and tag your poem with #StayWithUs
They need us, so be there for them.
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