There are two types of suicides. The irrational, sudden decision type and the chronic, broken type.
First type decides to end it when they’re faced with a sudden hardship in life. They lived normal lives; probably better lives than you and I. When suddenly life hit them hard, in form of a breakup, loss of a loved one, they can’t handle it. They hit the quit button, without sparing a thought about those they leave broken, with their passing. They are the lives that could have been spared if there was someone, a distraction at That Specific Moment.
Then there’s the latter time. They lived through childhood trudges, adolescence trials, abusing, molesting, bullying. Each took a piece of them away, leaving them broken, left to pick up the pieces and patch them up. For some, it’s no specific incident. The wiring of their brains are a bit negatively charged. They were never the happy, bubbly type. They were always the troubled kids, the odd one out, the dices among the pebbles.
They tried to survive. They tried to live it through. In the end they just couldn’t take it any more. They could have made it if they had a guiding light all through their lives, understanding eyes that saw through their walls, proper diagnosis and medication at the right time. They needed the support of us all to see through the day. They only got our half ass attempts. In the end, they decided they couldn’t do it any more.
“There was nothing to make him last a long time ” – Finch from All the Bright Places.