For years, suicidal ideation dominated my thoughts. It often felt like a coping mechanism. When life felt too big to exist in, I found what felt like power and agency. Comforted by the notion of a chosen end. As I grew and felt more capable, I would still return to these thought patterns for relief in difficult, anxious moments. It wasn’t until the suicide of a friend that I realized it was my reliance on this coping mechanism that had me refusing any possibility of a future. In my head, it was already over, a barrier between me and the vibrancy of life around me.

I cannot remember the first time I felt comfort in the idea of no longer existing

But I remember the last time