Are you on the side of relief? Or are you broken.. Left staring over your shoulder at everyone who is happier than you.
Or are they..?


1. Pain

In life, you have those days where you feel like you have come face to face with pure evil.

Of course, days like that happen to everyone, but only a few come face to face to it everyday.

Waking up, seeing all your walls around your bed, realising where you are and feeling shitty already, because you know, you know when you wake up in this room, your day is going to be shit.

Yes, only a few deal with this, but it's those few who learn to hide it well.

People like this find themselves out numbered day after day, they stay huddled up in a corner listening to songs that they feel sums how they are feeling on the inside. People come up to them and go "are you okay? What's wrong?" and the only answer these people can say is "I'm just tired."

Of course, you're not just tired, you're broken. Depressed. Alone. You want someone to sit beside you and talk to you. You want to be able to tell someone what's actually wrong without feeling like you're annoying them. Sometimes "I'm tired" just doesn't cut it. You want someone to care, but no one does.

Yes, people may say "I care about you." But do they really mean it? Of course not.

You find yourself always building that bridge. The bridge of pride, building it over that river of sadness. The river of sorrow. You want to get over it but you can't. Every time you build that bridge it just crumbles under your feet. Yeah, you can re-build it. But it's always going to break. So you're stuck. Stuck on the side of pain. No way to get to the side of relief. Of course, there are many ways to feel like you're at the side of relief. But non of those ways are with pride.

So you sit there. Trying to think of new ways to get to the side of relief.

People who feel like this try to commit suicide. Most don't succeed at first, but what's gonna stop them from trying again?

He had a bad home life. Not his fault. He wished his life was better. He wished his dad wasn't so angry. He wished he wasn't so poor, that he could afford the proper uniform. But wishing doesn't always help.

These tales of his home life slowly started flowing through the school like an old wrapper going through the breeze. Nearly everyone in his year knew. Half way through the year kids started calling him names. Picking on him. He had no choice but to ignore it. He had no friends to talk to. He was alone, at school and at home. Teachers tried talking to him, they tried getting close because they knew, they knew he was sad. They knew he was alone. But he'd push them away. He knew they didn't actually care.

He tried to kill himself a couple months later, and people in his class soon found out. Someone in his class had the audacity to tell him "get over it". Like depression is something you can "get over". Like the remedy of tested pills, or drugs you find in a first aid kit will make you happy again. Of course, it doesn't. It won't. You're stuck. He couldn't find a way to relief. He put up with the pain. No one ever cared about him, so why should other people care for us? Why would they want to? People like this just want someone to help build that bridge of pride. Someone who can help them get to relief because no one can get there in their own. They need help.

But no one ever wants to help them.

People are already on the side of relief. Others are wishing they could be there.

You dig that blade into your wrists for that tiny taste of relief. But it never lasts long. You feel the blood running down your arm and onto the floor, and you feel some relief. You want it to last, but the blood dries up. The cuts soon become scars and you do it all over again until you can't do it any longer. You hold that blade to your veins in your wrists, tears streaming down your face just wanting to slide it across. Wishing the pain would be over. People always say "don't do it, don't commit suicide, we care about you." But if those people actually cared any other time, these people wouldn't be in this position.

People like this don't want someone who's payed to try and help them. They don't want help from someone who's job is to pretend to care.


They want someone who will stop and put their 'perfect' life on hold to help someone else.

No one has a perfect life. But to some, being on that side of relief is perfect.

And they are too scared to ask for help, but they desperately need it.

Most aren't gonna get it.

But some might, if they have that one person. That one little person who can make that other persons life perfect.

People like this need someone, because if no one helps them they are going to try and kill themselves again. They are going to dig that blade deep into their wrists. They are going to die, and who's going to miss them? No one. Because no one ever bothered to try and get close. No one ever bothered to sit and talk to them. No one wanted someone like this in their life.

She couldn't read properly. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't learn. In grade 5 her parents knew there was something wrong but didn't bother doing anything. In grade 6 her teachers tried to help her but realised they couldn't and gave up. Once she hit high school the bullying started. In year 7 a boy gave her a note saying "you're too stupid to read this" she could read bits of it, but couldn't understand it. She never knew what it meant until her friend told her, she got hurt, but never let it get to her. She went through high school getting badly bullied. Non of the teachers really knew because she never told anyone. In year 9 a girl decided to go up to her and say "just kill yourself". She tried to not let it get to her, she tried, but that night she had taken the girls words to heart and tried. It didn't work. But she tried. If only it had worked, imagine how that other girl would feel.

So many people told her to give up. But she didn't. They called her a failure. But she isn't. They just had nothing to call her. Little did they know she had been called it all.

Him and her. Two completely different people. Dealt with different bullshit growing up but they went on.

These people, and so much more, they kept trying. At night, while people were sleeping, these people kept trying. They kept trying despite all the people who told them to quit. Because they know, they knew, that if they kept trying, no matter how many times they were told to quit. No matter how many times they wanted to give up, they kept trying and now they mean something. Now they are important. All those people were wrong.

They weren't the only people who grew up this way. So many people dealing with different life problems.

So many people who take their lives every day. So many people who wish their life would end.

So many people trying to build that bridge of pride. But no one will help them get across it. They're stuck. Alone. That bridge keeps crumbling under their feet each time no matter how many times they build that bridge. Nobody can get there on their own.


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