When I was little the only hanging we did was with friends. The only cuts we made were paper cuts, and our bruises were from falling off the couch from to much laughter. Now hanging means feet dangling, gurgling noises and coughing. It means you will never be able to have a conversation with that person again. Blue face with bulging out eyes… That is what hanging means. Broken hearts and diminishing souls torn into pieces. Paper cuts turn into sliced open wrists with tendons hanging out; blood pouring onto the floor. Tissues and tears litter the roads. As for bruises… Those are from the ones who “love” us. Who tell us it is not okay, yet want us to say we are. WE are blaming ourselves beating ourselves up for something we cannot control. . It shows up without warning… Death. What did we do to you? We shoved socks in your mouth, and put tape over it so you couldn’t tell us what was hurting you. Tears could’ve been rolling down your face, but we wouldn’t have noticed. We blindfolded you so we didn’t have to look into your eyes. This is in memory of everyone fighting anxiety and depression. This is for all the lives lost because of suicide. Everyone struggles… I just can’t believe I of all people couldn’t help you with your weakest moment. This is in memory of someone who needed a shoulder to cry on. Here is to all the angels who have lost their wings in the battle. YOU WILL BE MISSED!
In loving memory of anyone who has committed suicide