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Why You Should Ask Someone About Suicide

Ask again, I begged them in my head. Ask me again and I will tell you everything. Next time they ask I will do it. I will be honest. I will be vulnerable. I will share. I will give you the truth if you just ask me again.

This internal monologue would play on repeat, any time someone asked me if I was OK or seemed as if they were brave enough to approach my secret.

I was aware that people knew something was wrong, I mean, after fighting it for so many years it became too exhausting to hide. I had lost a dangerously large amount of weight, I had stopped showering, my hair was matted with grease and falling out, I had bald patches and sunken eyes and cuts and burns and bruises. My hate for life was obvious but no one directly asked me if I had ever considered ending it.

I kept waiting and waiting but no one asked. And although it wasn’t fair of me to think like this, I interpreted people’s avoidance of the question as a sign that they simply didn’t care about my answer.

Having also been …

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