Suicide note
This is for the Ri who’s 15. She doesn’t know yet her name is Ri. She calls herself Corina. She has purple hair and the reason for that is simple. When you enter school with a new hair colour everybody notices. And many of the people who never talk to her all day, will say something like: “he, Corina, you dyed your hair.’ They never say it looks good, they just say they notice it’s different. But that’s enough. There are days she spents hour after hour without a single interaction. She navigates the building with more than a thousand students, and none of them think to mention her, to greet her, to ask her how she is. But with every new hair colour at least 10 people will mention it. So she dyes her hair frequently, until that trick wears out and she enters the school with yet another hair colour, and nobody bothers to address it anymore.
There’s a girl named Corina standing on the train station. She takes the train to and from school, as do many of the students. Sometimes she travels with a group of girls, sometimes she even calls them friends. But she knows that word isn’t mutual. The other girls would never call her friend. She’s too different.
It’s a tuesday. On tuesdays she leaves school after the 6th period, and she has to wait for the train for a while. If she is on the train station on time, she’ll see a freight train. The freight train comes every tuesday at 11 minutes passed 2. She knows this. That train doesn’t stop.
Freight trains go slower than passenger trains, and she is not exactly sure if they go fast enough to kill a person. But she has to try. Passenger trains stop at every station so you can’t jump in front of them. The freight train will be right here, just a few moments from now. It’s big and loud and it just might end her life. All she needs to do is jump. Will she be brave enough?
At 14:09 the group of girls she sometimes travels with enters the train platform. They see her. They walk towards her and stand all around her and involve her in their conversation. The train comes and she doesn’t jump. How could she with all these friends here? She stairs at the train as it goes by. She hates herself. She hates that she found yet another excuse to not jump. Now she has to wait a whole week again. She has to stay alife another week.
A new person enters the train platform. It’s me. My name is Ri, but I was a Corina once. I was a 15 year old with purple hair ready to jump once. So I approach her. I approach me.
I see the darkness inside you. It’s so big. It’s so everywhere. I know you see no way out. I know you think nobody loves you. I know you don’t really have friends, and even if somebody would want to be your friend, you wouldn’t let them. I know every friend you ever had let you down and you never want to trust again. I know it all seems hopeless. I know you know nothing but dark, and you don’t even remember what light looks like. I wish I could tell you this will all end. I wish I could tell you tomorrow is a new day and people at school will actually see you. But that’s not the way it all went. Tomorrow is another day, very hard, very lonely. And so is the next day. And the next.
But I’m here. I’m 33. I’m you. I’m overflowing with happiness, and gratitude, and my life is amazing. I wish I could tell you this will be your reality soon. But that’s not the case. This wasn’t your last suicide attempt. This wasn’t the last time you gave up. And you’ll stay depressed until you’re 25. That’s a real long time to be desperate. I know it, I’ve been there. You’ll give up many times. And many times you’ll decide to end things. Many times some very mondane thing will prevent you ending things, and you’ll hate yourself so much for that. But I am thankful. You think those girls just came out of nowhere? You think it’s a coincidence they enter the platform at 14:09. No way. It was orchestrated. And every time you’ll be this close to death, there will be someone or something. You’ll never jump. And I know you’ll hate that, and you’ll hate you, but I’m you, 18 years later, and I’m overflowing with gratitude, because you made it. You did.
You battled depression for 15 years. You almost gave up every day, but you never really ended it. You were there. You were strong. You had the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you just kept going. Pretty much every person I remember being in your life then hurt you in terrible ways. You’ll be the loneliest person of the school with literally nobody to talk to. You haven’t even had the worst yet. There’s betrayal coming your way. Heartbreak. Loneliness. And even though there will be people trying to help you, they will not succeed because you have a very strong armor up. People will blame you for that, as if you have another choice at this point.
I see you. And you don’t need to dye your hair for me to see you. I see right inside you, and I see a lot of power. I know you can’t see it. It’s hidden behind all the dark. But it’s there. You’ll start using this power to fight for you. To fight for what’s good. And at some point you’ll start fighting for other people too.
I don’t have to tell you to hang in there. Because I know you will. Because I did. But I want to give you hope. There’s a light very deep inside you, and some day it will be shining bright. And I promise you, that it is an absolute fact. One day, very far in the future, you’ll be so happy you can’t stop laughing out loud. You’ll be so happy you start to sing spontaneously. And you’ll dance under the shower.
The darkness won’t end soon, but I’m sending you hope. Music. Poetry. People who support you no matter what. Literal stars. Sometimes you’ll see them. Sometimes you won’t. But I promise you, every day, there will be something. There will be at least one reason to hope and hang in there.
You’re not alone, little Ri. I’m with you. I’m the power inside you and you’ll be the power in me. Together we will make it. We will find hope. We will find joy. We’ll lead a good life.