I used to think that I had it all. I had a great job, a great family, friends, and a purpose in life. But I was wrong. I was wrong about so much. I was living a lie, and as the lie began to unravel, my self-worth plummeted to an all-time low.
My depression started small, creeping in gradually until it completely consumed me. I went from being a functioning member of society to someone who was barely alive. I stopped caring about the things that meant the most to me, which in turn caused my relationships with the people I loved to suffer.
One day the darkness became too much to bear, and I made a fatal decision. I decided to take my own life. The last thing that I remembered thinking was that I had failed. Failed in my battle against depression. I felt like I had let everyone down and that I was a burden to them.
No matter how many times my family and friends told me that it wasn’t true, I kept believing that my death would be a better option for them. That’s how I ended my story, with a single act of suicide.
Now I can only watch from afar as the people I love try to make sense of what happened. It’s a heartbreaking sight. I know I’m gone, but it’s still hard to accept the fact that I’m gone forever.
I guess I’d like to tell the world that if you’re battling depression, no matter how tough it gets, there is always hope. Don’t give up on yourself. Reach out for help, and hold on to it, no matter how hard it is to do so. Don’t let yourself succumb to the darkness like I did.