We don’t want your sympathy, we want your help.
When someone famous takes their life and sparks a firestorm of internet hype, their death is allowing anyone to toss their two cents into the cloud of social media. We see so often “Oh, how sad! RIP.” or “I feel so sad for them and their family…”
We don’t want your fucking sympathy. We want your help.
I can’t tell you how many times I have publicly cried for help because I was at the lowest of my lows and I just wanted someone to talk to and no one bothered. I wish I could count on one hand how many times my so-called “friends” have ignored my attempts at trying to talk about how I feel. I’d like to think a majority of suicidal people want help, but rarely does someone genuinely care without an ulterior motive. Rarely does one reach out with concern, not because they feel like they have to.
People battling the never-ending grey area of depression can’t fathom how much they are cared about. They have a hard time reaching out for help. Regardless of just how strong they may be, or how positive they are, the sneakiness of depression gets them every time. All they want is a friend. With friends comes healing. With self-confidence comes healing. With motivation comes healing.
It doesn’t matter how sorry you are. It doesn’t matter how bad you feel.
What are you doing for your struggling friends?
Not enough. None of us are.