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Suicide : Suicide And Suicide

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Suicide, it's looked at as a joke, the coward's way out, and even as a false attempt for attention. See it as you want, but I saw it as a way to leave everything behind and to never have to look back. The one choice I wouldn't live to regret. So in August of 2014, I made the attempt to flee from my problems, past, and suffering. The plan was simple, overdose and never wake up. It wasn't that easy for me though. When I was in the middle of my actions, my mother walked in. Her reaction was exactly how anyone would assume it would be: she broke down, screaming, crying, and spreading the news to everybody in the family. Shortly after, she called my sister over and they had an intervention I wasn't supposed to hear, but I heard it all while lying in my bedroom covered up with my pale gray cover, its color reminding me of my mood. How did they expect me to not hear their bickering when they only noises in the house were my silent sobs, their stern voices, and the crickets outside of my window?

When my mother had said I needed help, I assumed that I would attend therapy. Boy, was I wrong. My mother had left the room and I heard her muffled voice in a rush, cracking just like my will to hold on any longer. Everything felt like it was collapsing, mainly when after what I assumed was a phone call, my mother cracked my door open, sighing. I didn’t want to see her, let alone hear whatever bullshit she had to say. “You need to pack your bags. A week’s worth. I’m
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