Why, oh why, Suicide?

by Poet on the Piano   Mar 4, 2016

To you, whose mind is made up:

My heart breaks for you more than anyone in the world. You can't realize how much my heart is bursting with love for you, even though I don't even know your name or the color of your eyes. I am hurting. For you.

I pulled Papa aside again tonight. Asked him what I could do. Told him I'd been talking with you through email. Would the police take me seriously without a name or address? Would they understand that you were deadly serious when you said you wanted to leave. That it was time to. That you had a plan. That you were getting the tools to do it, soon. That you appreciate my efforts but it was too late. How I pleaded that it is never too late, that there is hope despite the darkness. That nothing lasts forever, but this? This does.

Papa said there's only so much I can do. That this isn't "good" for me. That this will only hurt me. That I can't save the world. That I can't save this person.

I tell him I'm not trying to be the savior but am only reaching out in case this person needed that. In case they never had that. In case they change their mind.

Papa said that I needed to drop it. Papa walked away; I stayed.

I can't walk away from this...

So what if I become emotionally invested in caring for someone I don't know? Someone halfway across the world? Who sent me pictures of their campsite and the nature around them where they would die? How can I look away and stop? How can I say "goodbye"?

You are not meant for this, I swear. And I ask and pray to God to have mercy. To bring you out into the light so you don't feel so hopeless.

My heart breaks louder than any firecracker, faster than any current and I don't know how I won't dream about another life for you.

But I don't even know your name...

(I don't even know who you are).



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