As I try to digest/get through “13 Reasons Why,” I’m realizing why I didn’t binge it through in the first place.
It’s an ugly mirror. There is a part where amidst the saintifying of Hannah because she’s dead, someone says that she was drama, all the time, and it was exhausting.
And I realized that I give myself too much credit for not ending my own life. That for two-plus Hannah’s lifetimes, I’ve spent far too many days simply muddling through.
Today was bad. My depression will win in the end if I don’t get help.
A couple of months ago, I posted in this manner and people reached out and maybe you think I ignored you, but I didn’t. Things just very quickly feel insurmountable to me.
But I know that so many of my friends are currently struggling as well, and just aren’t as mouthy.
During episode eight, I Couldn’t Even. Watching Hannah filled with hope as she read her poem about black lace panties and miles of skin, only to have it thrown back in her face, was awful.
Luckily, I got into an hours-long messaging session with one of my best friends ever. Someone whose bright brown eyes sparkled at me in seventh grade and woke up my spirit that had been very broken after getting sent to a weird private school.
Today my spirit felt broken again. It scared me, how much I related to Hannah Baker. But/so what I realize about why it’s so hard to watch, is that it’s one thing to recognize the pain you’ll cause everyone around you if you commit suicide. It’s another thing entirely to recognize the pain you cause just by living with this demon of a disease and not getting help.
I’m so sorry for being exhausting. That is not written with a drop of sarcasm.
Usually when I write things like this, I tie it with a mental bow, but I don’t have one right now. I still feel intense emotional and mental pain. But I know others are experiencing it as well.
I didn’t die today. If you’re reading, remember that you didn’t either. And maybe the sun will come out tomorrow.