As the hot water dripped and almost burned my skin, my mind wandered off. The cruel words from a message I’d received earlier spun around in my mind, I felt myself slipping and spiraling out of control. As I let the water fall on me and hoped it would wash away my pain, a thought slithered into my mind. I’d thought of death before, but only as something in the hands of an outside force. I had wished many times before that I could simply go to bed and never wake up.

This time was different. I felt as if everyone was mocking me behind my back, I had no friends, and after I’d been called “selfish” it was difficult for me to think of myself as anything else. I felt defeated and overwhelmed. I no longer wanted to die; I wanted to kill myself. The past 8 years had been filled with overwhelming struggle that had snowballed into depression. I didn’t want control, and I didn’t want to solve anything; I only wanted the comfort and peace that seems only achievable in death.

As I gazed at the falling water I thought about my own death. For the first time, I had a plan. It was simple: I would go out into the street – one of those busy four-way intersections and let the traffic do the rest. As this thought kept running through my head, growing louder and louder and my worth getting smaller and smaller, I was afraid. I was afraid of myself because now I knew that I was entirely capable of taking matters into my own hands in order to end my affliction.

For a long time, I didn’t tell anyone. Saying out loud would make it real, and that terrified me. Some weeks later, I found courage inside myself to speak up, to say, “I tried to kill myself.” I felt liberated, and now I feel comfortable enough to talk about it. I wanted to share my story because I wanted those suffering, those surviving, to realize that they’re not alone.

Life can be overwhelming. We can feel empty and lonely; we can wish to die, but we need to carry on. Why? Because we can, and we will. Because we have to prove ourselves. We have become victims of our circumstances, but within our circumstance, we can make a change. I wanted to share my story because I wanted to help. I want people to reach out. I want to start a conversation before it’s too late.

I know it’s hard, and I know it’s scary. But unless we speak up, the stigma that follows mental illness and suicide will never be eliminated. We need to speak up to prove that we are survivors of ourselves, of our pain and of the world. We need to speak up because talking about depression and suicide should not be a taboo that makes people uncomfortable. We need to speak up so we can stop mourning and start saving lives.

1 (800) 273-8255 (National Suicide Prevention Line)