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My Story - by Anonymous

The moment I heard of my friends passing it was like a pause in a moment of time, the bustling streets were now hollow, the screams of help were muffled in the distance. The shattered glass looking in the mirror seeing someone I once knew but was now broken, a maze of guilt, flooded in confusion, upset and anger. Guilt is a funny thing, its unbearable, almost takes over like a rush of adrenaline but gives you a real perspective on how much something affects you, it’s a normal part of the grieving process especially after losing someone to suicide.

The traffic lights are red for far too long, the traffic is building, its chaotic, the rush hour race to get home. Retracing my steps on high alert analyz

ing my every step trying to trace what I feel I missed, the silent cries for help, the search for missing pieces of the puzzle. The taste of the fresh air now bitter, the wind now extra cold with anger like a volcano flowing out at the silliest of things.

Once motivated but now still with the only want is to see him again, nothing else seems important and with my head on my desk at college I dream, I dream of what could have been. I now know there was nothing I could have done, the puzzle will always be unfinished, but I know he would want me to be happy, to drive home and live my life. He's at peace, perfect peace. His life will forever live on, those lovely memories will forever shine bright and there’s many more people out there on the same path who I can help feel the warmth again.

Losing someone to suicide is heart-breaking, the worst pain I have ever felt but it gets easier, the walking gets less heavy.

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