Trigger Warning: The following content describes self-harm and refers to sexual assault.

The ground reels his eyes in, bowing his head to its mercy every time he walks. The clouds empathize all the times he gets picked on but respond in anger every time he picks on someone. The walls shudder as he arrives back from school, storms into his room, and bangs the door shut like I used to. It’s time for the waterfall to turn his bed into a waterbed as he crumples the picture of the both of us in his fist.

“I can’t see him like this; take me back.”

The aforementioned scene played in my head the first time I tried to attempt suicide in March 2016. I had been shaking and crying incessantly, unable to decide whether to pick up the knife or pick up the phone and call my best friend.

I don’t quite know what happened, but I guess it was one of those moments where your whole life flashes in front of you. Only this time, it was a future, without me, just like I wanted it at that time. I had a distinct visual of what life would be like for my brother if I left. Angry at what I would be doing to him. I am fiercely protective of my loved ones so the pain of that visual stopped me.

I still cut with a razor and gave my Math HL Paper 2 with a burning left hand, unable to hide the cuts with my jacket sleeve. But I failed at my attempt which exacerbated the anger I had towards myself.

I don’t quite recall the first time I started having anxiety attacks and suicidal thoughts. I do remember how all those times were interrupted by a person or an event. I remember feeling hopeless, trapped, and alone all the time.

I resorted to self-harm for years. It started physically with razors, scissors, and compasses. Then I hit 17 and realized emotional self-harm is a thing. So, I stopped sleeping and started to starve myself for 19 hours, consuming only an apple every day.

Starving oneself dampens one's ability to process emotions. Over the summer, I had had enough of my anxiety attacks and tried to figure ways to cope. The faulty coping mechanisms lasted for about 4 months and then March 2017 came and I relapsed. Finally, I sought help.

I generally never spoke about my feelings because I didn’t trust anybody. It was a toxic theory I was raised with and I started to internalize it over the years to the point I shut everybody out. So, you can imagine how terrifying it was to open up to a stranger to ask for help. It was hard and mostly a blur in the beginning.

Until a few weeks later, I visited every event that could count as traumatic and understood the source of it all -- I hated myself. This was key because most don’t completely understand what drives their suicidal impulses. There were times I would look in the mirror and bang my fist through it with tears rolling down my eyes because I couldn’t even stand looking at myself.

Slowly, I traced back to who and what caused that hate. When I started to get better, I was sexually assaulted by a close friend and every day after that was motivated by my survival instincts.

It’s going to be March 2018 and every month since last March has been a constant battle of figuring why I struggle and how I can fix it. The reason I narrated my story has three reasons:

1. You are never alone, ever.

I promise you what you feel is short-lived and there is a way out. Reach out, it will literally save your life. If you want to talk to someone anonymously, try www.7cups.com

2. You will change someone’s life.

Someone loves you; there is someone you love. Not guilt-tripping you, just reminding you. If you seriously believe you don’t matter and that your absence won’t affect someone, you’re wrong. Because believe me, there will be, and quite possibly has been a time, when you deeply impacted someone and they would terribly miss you.

It could be the kid you smiled at every day, the boy you helped trust others and believe in himself, the girl who has a newfound confidence because you complimented her on that dress she was conscious to wear, the lady whose life changed because of your work/art, the aunt who you saved from domestic violence by speaking your mind, or the person whose day you made by keenly listening to him/her/them.

You are needed to make this world a more compassionate, safer, happier, and better place. Your work is important and your existence is a blessing. To not just you, but to us. If you take that away, you’re taking a shot to change the world away too. A friend once told me: “We seldom know what changes next in our lives” and I could not agree more. So, hold on and figure out if the ride was worth it.

3. It gets better.

I am only 19 and I am lucky to have found internal and external happiness after firmly believing I never could. I still struggle and do understand life happens, but I have gained/am gaining the strength and skills to get through whatever and whoever happens next. You will too if you give yourself and the universe a chance. You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.

If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, visit the link or call the hotline number below. There are more people out there who want to see you heal than you think.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-8255