Hey you,
It’s 80 degrees outside, and you’re wearing long sleeves. I can see the sweat beading on your forehead, but you refuse to roll them up to allow your skin to cool off, and the dark circles under your eyes speak volumes.
I know your secret, but I won’t tell anyone.
I was you. I understand.
As of late, depression and other mental health disorders have become glamorized, almost a fad. Scrolling through Tumblr, I’ve stumbled across blogs many times that add beauty to the illness, poeticizing the crippling battle that goes on inside our heads.
When I was thirteen, my war with self-destruction began. The chemical imbalance that had begun to affect my life became something beyond my control when I stumbled across my vice, a razor. The frequency slowly increased, and then it transformed into more than just an occasional happening. Everyone needs something to take the pain away, and this was mine.
I don’t know your story, and I don’t need to in order to tell you that you are worth so much.
I understand how it feels to think that your only solace is that little silver blade and to believe from deep inside your core that you’re alone in your fight.
I know what it’s like to lay awake late at night and contemplate your purpose, warding off the voices that beckon your demise.
I recognize the turmoil that circulates your brain, and how enticing that bottle of pills in the kitchen can seem.
I’m all too familiar with the frequency of tears that well in the corners of your eyes and the cold numbness that settles in the pit of your stomach.
You are not alone in this. I promise you, I understand.
And I also want you to know that this part in your life doesn’t define you. Things may never be as easy for you as they are for other people, but you are so strong. You’ve made it this far, and I hope that you live to see tomorrow, and the next day, and four years from now, too. The world wouldn’t be the same without you here, and you’re worth more than you will ever comprehend. There are people on this earth who need you, who love you, and there are people who care. Talk to someone. Open up. Don’t go through this alone, please. And don’t give up.
Someday, you will be able to see a razor or a knife and it will be just that; it will be a utensil. Your scars will fade, and you will be okay.
Recovery, it’s not easy, but it’s possible. You can do anything that you set your mind to. You can recover. Don’t wait for someone to come save you—save yourself, because you’re worth it.
Sincerely,
A girl with fading scars.
Here are some hotlines in case you need a friend:
Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1(800) 273-TALK or 1(800)273-8255
Disaster Distress Hotline: 1(800) 985-5990
CrisisChat
Suicide Hotline Listings by State
Crisis Text Line: Text ‘GO’ to 741-741
The Trevor Project: 1(866) 488-7386
