I didn’t want to die. I just couldn’t see another way. I cared. I cared too much. My mind wouldn’t stop — telling me I was worthless, that I’d ruined everything, that everyone would be better off without me. I believed it. The sleeping pills weren’t some grand gesture. They were me trying to make it all stop. Not because I didn’t care — but because I did. Because it hurt too much to keep going. And I didn’t know how to say that.
But as the pills started to slow my mind, I saw it. What I’d done. What I almost lost. That was the moment something shifted. Not healed. Not fixed. Just... shifted. And I came back.
That was how it was for me. I could have died. But I didn’t. And if you’re feeling anything like that — I pray you’ll talk to someone. Anyone. Because you matter. Your life matters. And no matter how bad it feels… death is not the answer.