Suicide. To some, it is only a word. To others, a fleeting thought of no real concern to them. But to people like myself, it's a painful reality. I've been there, and it's somewhere I hope to never be again. It's loneliness and isolation and hopelessness and despair. It's agony and anger and an endless road of desperate turns. But it's not a solution.

You look down on yourself and you hate yourself and you feel alone. You feel rejected and unaccepted and it seems there's nothing to live for. Maybe it's your family or your friends. Maybe you're abused or on drugs or on the run. Maybe it feels like nothing else matters and it's the only way out. But it's not.

The reasons differ, but the feelings are the same. I've been through it, and I've survived. It took five years, two hospitalizations, foster care, and a lot of support. But I'm alive. My life is not perfect and my problems did not evaporate. It hasn't been easy, but I now know I want to live.

I don't want anyone to have to go through what I did. There is hope and there is help. Believe me.

If you feel this way, talk to someone: a parent, friend, relative, counselor, doctor. Call a hotline, read a book, write a poem, take a walk. But suicide is not worth it.

Maybe what I'm saying means nothing and maybe it means something. But you don't have to feel alone anymore. I care. No matter who you are or where you're from. If you feel you have no one, you don't. Someone always cares. But please, don't look at death as an answer. n