Rescued

"We all honor heroes for different reasons. Sometimes for their bravery, sometimes for their daring, sometimes for their goodness, but mostly we honor heroes because at one point or another we all dream of being rescued."

I can still remember the first time I thought about suicide, I can remember the first time I tried it, how young I was, how sad it was ... especially I recall how no one ever noticed. What I cannot remember, is how many times I thought about it afterwards, how many times I considered it, how many times I wished it.

I investigated, I got what I needed, I slept with it under the bed, even managed to do some physical harm to myself, and most surprising I found, was how easy it could be.  However, no one ever knew ... Why? How can no one suspect that I am at the limit?

I think I haven’t continued trying because I need to satisfy my dependence on things, I cling to small and personal things. First, I had to read the seven Harry Potter books; I cannot leave the story incomplete. We are close to the date when the sixth book will be published... And still have one more to go. Also, I swore to myself that would catch all 151 Pokémon (plus Togepi), I promised myself to complete my collection of comics ... and finish my novel.

My parents did not notice, I have promised to never let them in, always smiled and nodded when I asked how I was in school.

The amazing thing was how much I learned about death, it’s frightening and kind of hot to think a 12 year old thinks so much about death…

To my delight, I'm not the only person who had this one thing in his head constantly. Did you know there has been a guide to suicide on the Internet for almost 7 years or more? From there I knew the exact dose so I could commit suicide with pills, the amount of pesticide too.

I have seen and heard people act in ways similar to mine, and I never offered to help, of course no one hurt their wrists as I did. I knew, know all I really want is help, attention, awakening… some envy maybe... In my case, the suicidal gesture was not enough, and though I did hid it to some, my friends noticed, even teachers ... none seemed to do something about it. This is the time where I do not know why? Why didn’t they reach out, to my parents, school authorities... what was the reason? Were they scared or did they simply found it unimportant.

For many, anything about suicide is equal to: "eager to get attention." And I don’t blame them... I am testament to that, I still crave for attention... it hurts. Keep in mind, that attention is not a tantrum, not a capricious act. Attention means connections... I did feel disconnected, from my family, the world,... like if I was diving deep in the ocean, and the oxygen had been disconnected ... it hurts, its anguishing, and it causes enormous pain to my lungs, all so slowly... you get to be very aware of it.

(17 days late)