CW: This essay discusses suicide. If you or someone you know needs immediate help, please call 911. You can also call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at: 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting CONNECT to 74174. The world need you.
By Lisbeth Welsh
“Adrian died yesterday.”
I was 11.
“Adrian died yesterday.”
Adrian was 20.
He seemed like such a grown up to me then. Now I’m staring 40 square in the eye. I realize how short his twenty years actually were. My last memory of him is the top of his legs. I stood looking out of my parents upstairs landing window. His gold Ford Sierra was parked outside. I looked down from above, his torso and face obscured by the sun visor.
“Lets go see Adrian.” My friend Sara said.
“No not tonight.”
I was 11. He was 20. How would I know ‘not tonight’ would turn into ‘not ever again?’ How could I know that I was staring at him in the exact seat he would die in the next day? I will spend the rest of my life wishing I’d run out to that car. But I was 11. It wouldn’t have re-written history. I know that. I know that because I have spent years battling my own monsters. Twenty years. No more than the amount he survived. From eating disorders to self-harm to depression and anxiety. With no self-respect and little self worth. Continue Reading…