If you read one post on this blog I want it to be this.
I want to tell you about a close friend of mine, her name is B. She is a Pagan through and through, she loves her faith and lives it with every second of her life. She follows Wicca and has the magick and the Gods running through her veins more than any other person that I’ve ever met.
She loves life, she lives life. I look up to her so much; she’s the one person who I want to be like. I love the way she views life and the way she follows her faith. She’s one of the toughest people I’ve ever met. When she decides she’s going to do something she does it, when she wants to achieve something she’ll achieve it. She’s strong and she’s brave and she’s funny and feisty and wonderful.
She has a brilliant sense of humour, she’s great at baking, she’s always prepared, she’s a fantastic writer, she has an awesome sense of style, she’s athletic, she loves her horses and her family, she loves her faith, she is a loyal friend, she’s a brave, independent person, she’s mature, she loves nature, she loves animals, she cares for the world and she loves life.
She died one year ago today.
She killed herself, she went to the local train station and threw herself under an oncoming train.
I haven’t talked about it much at all on this blog, I mentioned it when it happened but haven’t really talked about it since
What makes me so angry is that she will never be remembered for all the things that she did in her seventeen years on this planet; she will only ever be remembered for the way she died.
I can’t talk about her, I can’t mention her- everyone clams up and goes quiet when I do like her name is taboo.
I wish I could say that I can’t imagine what she must have been feeling to do something like that- but I can’t, I’ve tried to take my own life, I know how it feels to say goodbye to everyone and stand at the edge of life… but I never tried a method like hers, I never went for anything so final. It terrifies me to think about anyone being in a place where they wpould make the decision and go through with something like that. I hate to thiknk of someone that I love feeling like that and going through that all alone.
When they told me I started shouting at everyone stood around me, I was asking them why they were all just standing there, I kept begging them to stop her, to do something… but they just stood there and stared at me.
I went through a long period of hating everyone. I hated them for just getting on with their lives when she was dead, I hated them for carrying on as normal when the world was fucked. I wanted the world to stop, but it didn’t. I wanted to scream at everyone who was happy- and sometimes I still do.
So this is for B, this is a plea that she won’t become the lonely girl who killed herself- because she was more than that, we can’t ignore her death by saying that it was ‘her decision’ people don’t decide to die. They decide to stop living- and when someone decides to stop living it’s because life is too painful… and when a young girl with everything to live for throws herself under a train we don’t chalk it up to the unpredictable nature of life and ignore it.
I refuse to walk away from B, I refuse to let her pain fade away into history. She had a life worth living, and someone or something took that away from her.
And more than anything, I refuse to be quiet any longer about suicide.
B is more than the way she died.