Suicide Awareness

Like many others, I have found myself so deep in the pit of despair that I thought there was no way up; I felt that I would need to make my home 6 feet under. The truth is, this isn't a save; it's not a reprieve, and so much pain and confusion comes with loss that many spend their whole lives trying to understand it.

The photo above is a picture of my best friend. He was the life of every party he attended; he welcomed everyone into his home and his heart like family, and I can say with sincerity that David never met a stranger. Before my brother's passing, he mostly refused visitors, and David fought his way to see him and reminded him that there was always room for friendship and welcoming new people into your life. He wasn't just a friend; he was family. My kids loved him, my blood welcomed him, and the times when I felt loneliest, I called him home.

After I lost my brother, he stepped in as my first call. He was the guy who solved every problem, helped in every struggle, opened his door to those in need, and showed up both when you needed someone most, and when you just wanted company.

When I got the call, I knew in my gut that something was wrong, but what I never imagined, what I never could have fathomed, was that the call was to tell me that my best friend, my love, my soulmate, my brother from another mother, took his own life. I created this photo, as his nickname was 8 ball. In the 8 ball are the last words I ever messaged him after he told me his car needed work, and his word bubble are the last words that he ever said to me.

I am writing all this because I wanted to share the below poem, but not without stating with 100% clarity that if you're hurting, lost, lonely, broken, please hold on. The hole you leave can't just be filled. It's impossible, and I hope you choose to keep fighting.

IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW IS CONTEMPLATING HURTING YOURSELF, PLEASE SEEK HELP. 988 IS A SUICIDE PREVENTION HOTLINE. YOU CAN CALL OR TEXT 24/7

 Cutting

I hear the slightly audible crackle,

As the blade tears my skin.

The blood drizzles slowly,

Welcoming my sin.

I know it’s wrong;

But it’s the only way I feel.

I need to know that I’m alive.

I need to know if it’s real.

I run my fingers over my leg,

On soft new grooves left behind.

The wounds are oozing with my life,

Reminding me I must not lose my mind.

The calming release comes

With each new tear of flesh

Stopping is the hardest,

That’s the real test.

A knock at the door

This release has reached its end

I put away the blade

My one true friend.