I have a friend I wanna tell you about. You see, this pair of bracelets was a gift from her. She gave them to me. Not because I'm as beautiful as they are. No. She did it 'cause my wrists needed them more that she did. The cuts over my radial arteries. She made sure they're covered. This scarf, is from her too. She ensured the bruises on my neck were also concealed. You see, she knows that all the society will do is ask; WHY?? Questions before answering mine.
Why did you drown yourself yet you knew how to swim? I don't know why exactly I did it either. Worse I don't know how to tell you just how it feels to let the pain drive you; push you over the edge, burn the ability to hold on. How do I explain it to you that, I felt peaceful. I felt like I belonged there, in that situation. Needed to fight for my next breath, yet I let go. I didn't even fight to float, that moment, that second I stopped fighting; when I let me drown, consciously aware that it meant death, that minute, I found PEACE .
I don't know how to tell you am not really an adrenaline junkie. I fear heights. But I am compelled to stand close to the edge of every cliff. Secretly hoping the rock portion I stand on falls off, and I fall with it, bash my head hard, be beyond resuscitation by the time any help comes.
How do I make you understand that I don't walk fast enough across the highway. Because I low-key hope a mad man behind the wheels will run me over, help me snap out of this misery. If ascent or descent follows I don't mind. How do I tell you this thing without having you judge, ask me questions I can't begin to formulate answers. You see, my friend, she's always there. She holds my hand and never leaves me by the cliff alone. She does not exactly babysit me but she reads me good stories, makes sure I don't scare the life out of myself.
She ensures that my social misfit self is not the talk of the hood. She guards my self-esteem. She may not know but she's sometimes the reason I fight. Fight to live today when I feel the need to die. Fight the urge to not fight for my life.
But she is my imaginary friend. One that makes me do things for me on her behalf. She that every suicide survivor or suicidal soul wish they had. Look here, the social does the kill. We're just the tools. We do not need to explain. We so badly need you to understand. It's us, because right now I know am not the only one. Understanding us might be the prophylaxis we need for this condition.
Please help us, to keep the life a little longer.
#HELP_BY_STOPPING_THE_PREJUDICES!
As Written by Jackie Wawira