People talk about suicide like they know.
They speak from their high horse, talking down at all of us claiming to know, to understand.
They talk about it as if they understand.
But they don’t .
They have never felt the blade slide along the porcelain skin, and have never had to hear the little voice egging you on, no, begging you to just press a little deeper.
Have never felt the terrifying calmness as pill, by pill by pill, slide down your throat.
Have never had to endure the jokes,
laugh off the “go kill yourself”
or have to restrain yourself from throwing everything within arms reach and screaming “I’VE TRIED!”
So don’t pretend you know.
Instead get off your high horse and learn my pain.
Pull your nose down from the air and look around.
Notice the kids with long sleeves in the summer.
The smiles with the mouths but not the eyes.
While you are claiming to know, one of your friends is silently screaming,
begging for you to notice,
to help save them from the endless waves of their torture.
So please.
Don’t talk about suicide as if you know.
Because the people who know,
Don’t talk about it.
Storm. (via heldenkotze)
Once a upon a time, there was a beautiful tiger. She lived in a cave with the rest of her family. Her father and mother told her “you may go anywhere you want, but never go near the cliff; for you could fall.” But when no one was looking, she’d go near the cliff. For the closer she came to the edge, the more she could hear; the more she could see; the more she could feel. Finally, she stood at the very edge. She saw a light. She leaned out to touch it… and she slipped. And she flew. (To/Into) Tomorrow; a place with more suns in the sky than you can count; a place not like today or yesterday… a place where things are better. Oh, yes, yes it is. I’ve seen it. That’s where I’m going.
~ guy (the croods)