My older brother tried to kill himself when I was a kid.
I remember meeting him in the hospital and giving him silly putty to play with.
I remember my mom crying against his frail body beneath the hospital gown.
He was just a boy in my mind, but also my hero.
And I didn’t know then why he did it.
But now I know.
Approximately 87% of people who commit suicide have a mental illness.
Suicide is not selfish.
It is an escape for people who need help.
He was not weak.
He was scared.
And I’m so grateful he wasn’t successful.
But just because he lived doesn’t mean the conversation is over.
The suicide rate is going up and therefore the conversation around it also needs to go up.
I’m done pretending our world is fine.
We are not fucking fine.
We need help.
And we need awareness.