It matters how you treat people (the reaction) …..

Content Warning:

This post discusses sensitive topics, including grief, betrayal, and suicide. If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of self-harm or suicide, please reach out for support. You are not alone. Resources like the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (Call or Text 988) are available 24/7 for confidential help.

"It was too much weight on my shoulders. Now that I've started to heal, I can see that. But at the time, it didn't feel like weight—it felt like I was being ripped apart. And the worst part? I was being torn to pieces by the one person I trusted most to hold me together.

Gran was gone, and I barely had time to process that before I was hit by another wave of pain. I found out that the woman I loved-the one I was going to propose to-and the friend I'd invited into my home had betrayed me in the worst way. Not only were they sneaking around behind my back, but they were doing it in the bed I shared with her, in the home where I thought I could heal.

That house held all our memories, my first Christmas and birthday without Gran. And now it was tainted.

The thing about humans is that we always find new ways to hurt each other. I never thought she'd hurt me this way, but looking back, the signs were there. I just ignored them.

My heart was already broken because Gran wasn't coming back. And despite knowing in my mind there was nothing I could have done, I blamed myself for not being around when she passed.

Then this betrayal... It felt like I couldn't breathe. So I decided, if I was going to feel like I couldn't breathe, maybe not breathing was the answer.

I was already a bottle and a half deep, holding Gran's obituary, seeing nothing but red. I started questioning why life had become so impossible, wondering how horrible I must be for the people who claimed to love me to keep crushing me. And that's when I saw the belt.

It felt like the only thing left to do, the only way to make everyone, including myself, happy. I wouldn't be here anymore-she wouldn't have to look at me and see regret. So I held Gran's picture. In my mind, it would serve as some kind of suicide note when she found me and called my mom.

I finished the bottle and said a little prayer. I fastened the belt to the bathroom shower rod and then around my neck. I climbed onto the tub, closed my eyes, and told my mom I was sorry.

And then I jumped..."