I had to sit up all night before the first conversation I had with my best friend, the one I had spent the previous three months hanging out with.
We were all talking about the same thing: I was dying.
I had been in a car crash and my back was hurting and I was walking home from the hospital.
I didn’t want to die, so I told him, “I want to go home.”
He looked at me and said, “Well, what do you mean?”
I was thinking about all the things I was feeling.
I was depressed, scared, worried, scared of the world and the way it was going to turn around.
He told me, “If you want to come to the hospital and see your family, I want you to come.”
He went to his house and I went to my room and I cried for hours.
At one point I said, My God, I don’t know what to say.
I cried until my eyes were bleeding and I couldn’t breathe.
The next day, I called my dad, my brothers and my sister and told them what I had gone through.
My dad told me I was the reason he got in trouble in the first place.
I got in a lot of trouble in my life.
My life was so crazy and messed up.
So I told my story to my dad and I said: “I’m the reason my life was messed up, and my life is messed up right now.”
I told people I was a suicidal person and I had no idea what to do.
I told them that if I don and don’t talk about it, I’ll go crazy and they’ll say, “Oh, well you know, he doesn’t know.”
I know that I don, but I don the truth.
I don to tell them what to think.
And I can’t.
It’s not the way I want to be treated.
I have friends in my house who are suicidal.
I just want them to know that they’re not alone.
I want them not to think, “It’s OK to feel suicidal.”
I want people to understand that if they have thoughts of suicide, if they feel they have a feeling that they have to stop, they can talk about that and get help.
I hope my story helps people understand that there is no such thing as a suicide note.
It is a mental illness and it will take years to understand.