I Wish I Could Have Told You This Before You Killed Yourself

Today’s been, long. A 16-year-old in my community ended her life yesterday. It makes me sad for her. Sad for she had an entire life to live. In some sense jealous that she isn’t here. Guilt for wanting that. Grateful to be here. Sad for her family, for all their unanswered questions. For the world. For a life full of potential that isn’t anymore.

I wrote her a letter that I wish I could have shared with her, even if she’d end up deciding whatever she’d decide. My friend just told me to reread it. Still, just a mixture. Waiting for tomorrow.

The Letter


If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you’re suicidal. You have thought of, or are thinking of, suicide as a viable option. I know that place. Where the only option is to end your life in order to end the pain. It isn’t about ending your life I know. It’s about stopping the world. Getting off from a world you didn’t ask to be part of. Maybe that’s just how I see it. The train moving way too fast on the tracks, the tracks ending at a cliff, the train is going to hurtle down the cliff and you’re going to be shattered to pieces at the bottom. Or you can just get off the train of life.

I don’t even know what to say. For everything is so trite. Everything is so false and meaningless. If there’s one thing I do wish I could do, it would be to come and hold your hand. To stay with you. I’d want you to know that you aren’t alone. That whatever is going on for you, you don’t have to do this alone. There are people out there who care so much about you, yup, even though they don’t know you, have never met you and may never meet you. People who would want to let you into their world. Who’d be happy to let you into their hearts. It’s strange for me to write this for it’s something I need to hear too.

What I wish you could know with all certainty, is that you are worth it. That you are special. That you are beautiful. Just because you are. Just because you exist. You are. Therefore you’re awesome. I know it’s hard to see or believe that at the moment. That it doesn’t make a difference if it’s true or not. Just know that I believe in you. That I trust you. That I know you have way more strength and beauty than you can ever imagine. If you’re able to feel such pain, it says something about you. It tells me just how far your love can go. Just how amazing you are.

I used to quote things all the time. Things like ‘Go as long as you can, then take another step’. Like ‘Faith is taking the first step even if you can’t see the full staircase’. Things like ‘I’ve endured this discomfort before and survived it, and so I can survive it today.
I’ve felt these feelings before and sat with them, and so I can sit with them today.
I’ve felt like giving in before and held onto hope, and so I can continue to hold on today.
I made it through yesterday, and so, I can also make it through today.
I can do it. I will do it. I am doing it. I am strong and I am capable. I will not give up.’

One of the main reasons I held on was the saying that goes along the lines of hold on because you never know who may one day say because of you, I held on. Although life wasn’t worth it for my own sake, for others, it is. Because even when I can’t see the beauty in my own world, in myself, I know that others are beautiful. Do you know that others are worth it? Is it worth giving life a chance for another day so that someone else will live?

As I said, I don’t know what to say. I don’t have any words. All I see is the pain. I wish I could come and sit with you. Be with you. Just know that, I’m thinking of you. I care. Even if that makes absolutely no sense at all. For I don’t know you and never will know you unless you say hello to me. Yet I care. I believe in you. I believe in the beauty of your world. I believe that when all the pieces are shattered, you get to choose your own life, you get to choose how to rebuild. I believe in your reasons. In your reasons to end it. In your reasons to live. I know that you’re worth it. I know that no matter what your internal or external world looks like, you are someone so special and worth it to know.

I’m sad. I’m sad that you’re sad. I’m sad that the world is sad. I’m sad that I can’t actually come and sit with you right now. I’m sad.


This piece originally appeared on the author’s blog.

Message from the author:

My goal is to create a site called Letters Of Hope. Not just hope for those suicidal but hope for whatever anyone’s rock bottom is. It would be set up as a categorized booklet for people to read through (hopefully to be able to print too). The project would show people that there is hope and be beneficial for the writers as well. For example, I wrote the above letter to someone in my community after she died. It has helped me to reread my words, which I’ve done so often.

Would you be interested in helping me set this up by submitting a letter you would want someone who is at rock bottom to read (either someone you know or a theoretical person)? It would be a project for the world but also for myself, giving meaning to my life at the moment. You could email me the letters at elizareasonstolive@gmail.com

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