Because talking about it still makes me want to vomit, and you know what? Fuck that. Depression and anxiety is something that my immediate blood kin all deal with (or don’t deal with). I am not suicidal — 98% of the time. I’ve been suicidal, to the point of planning to plan suicide, maybe three times in my life, maybe four. Not a lot. But two of those times have been in the last two years, and that’s not a trend I’m comfortable with.
No one deserves to die because the thoughts in their heads convince them that it doesn’t make a difference, or worse, that it’ll be better for everyone.
I may make more of these, because I really, really don’t want to. Not wanting to talk about this to people for most of my life has meant I haven’t really dealt with it well at all. So, you know. Maybe it’s time to just do it, even if it’s terrifying. I don’t want to go and talk to a doctor about this? Okay. Time to talk to *everyone* instead.