A little while ago now, I didn’t die, and a lot of things have happened since then. I hope this piece can offer hope for those feeling bad, and an opportunity to empathize for those who don’t.
I’m so scared that writing this could romanticize, so I want to make it clear that this is ultimately a positive post about living, to help people understand what one individual person (me, if that wasn’t clear) felt and has been feeling since I didn’t die, at a time when I thought I wanted to.
The very first thing I felt was panic. Shit shit shit shit. I texted my best friend, “I need help.” You know that moment when you drop a glass and it hasn’t hit the floor yet and your eyes bulge and your heart stops — you know something bad has just happened
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