should i care about betraying a mentally ill teenager
When I was a teenager I wanted to die. I wanted other things as well; I wanted to transition, to move out, to be in a loving relationship, to look cooler, to be famous, the list goes on. But predominantly, I wanted to be dead, and I’m not sure if achieving any of the other goals would be any consolation to teenage me if they found out we’re still alive. I grew up convinced that I wouldn’t make it to 18, let alone 23; that, sooner or later, I would pull the proverbial trigger. Not that it’s a particularly original experience. And despite still being chronically, base-level, (mostly) passively suicidal throughout most of my adulthood, I now have a pretty strong belief that I will make it out alive, which makes the world of difference. Somewhat ironically, one of the most helpful (but also one of hardest to implement) things that I’ve learned living this way is that you simply cannot let yourself think about yourself as someone who will eventually kill themself. With all the talk about yo...
