Hi! This is Ava Jarvis. I’m in a rough state and need a little help/validation. Someone I know just emailed me: “You know, if the depression in your life is so bad, maybe you should consider suicide? It’s a valid solution just like any other.” They say they respect my decision if I choose to commit suicide, and that maybe I should stop fighting the urge. I’m pretty sure they’re wrong and I should block them. Indeed, I have blocked them, but I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.
The first time I wanted to die badly enough to do something about it, I was nine years old. I would have missed my entire adult life. The last time I wanted to die badly enough to do something about it, I was thirty-eighty years old, and the fact that I’d had twenty-nine years depression didn’t want me to have didn’t matter nearly as much as the thought that I could fix everything with a single slice.
Depression lies.
You are a story no one else can tell: you are a miracle. Those things sound trite, but “trite” doesn’t mean “untrue.“ Someday, you’re going to die, and the world will be less for your absence, and no matter what may come next, you won’t be able to do anything else here. No more sentences, no more sodas, no more Saturdays. And those things are so important, and you are so important.
The person who told you to consider suicide sounds like they could use some help themselves, and I hope that they can get it. I hope you can find whatever help you need. I hope you can stay. Please stay. The world is better for having you in it.
Please talk to someone who is closer than I am, who can be physically there for you, and please stay.
I’ll see you tomorrow.
