A Reason to Live, pt. 2

So... suicide. Fun topic. Fun experience. Ah... where to start? When I was 12, I became aware of my own mortality and overly aware of how I could take my own life. Let me tell you, as a preteen, that's an incredibly scary thought to have running through your head. I'd heard of depressed people dealing with suicidal thoughts, but there wasn't anything wrong with me. I was terrified, so I told my parents about what I was thinking, but they seemed to brush it off like I could handle it. I spent years avoiding sharp objects as much as I could, and when I finally overcame that obstacle, I was so happy and confident in myself.

Sadly, that's not the end of the story. The previous challenge was a small hill compared to the mountain range to come. Over time, my confidence faded into an apathetic depression with peaks of anxiety. I had very few friends in the time before and the following period, which was through middle and high school. On top of that, I had my nose shoved into the Bible on the daily, reading it not because I wanted to, but because I had to get a good grade in Bible class. No one in my private school cared, and even when I caught attention by writing a testimony filled with sorrow and uncertainty for the future for the aforementioned class, I don't even know if the school sincerely cared. After I switched to public school, sought counseling, and was finally around people I cared about, things got a little better.

Alas, a change of atmosphere can only change so much. I still am affected by anxiety and suicidal thoughts, but now I can clearly see I have reasons to keep going. My family, friends, art, and experiences that have happened or are going to happen are my reasons to live, and I've never been more certain.