The estimate we kept seeing over and over repeatedly in every of the Instagram suicide and self-harm hashtags: “No one cares unless you’re pretty or dying.” But there have been other people too:

The estimate we kept seeing over and over repeatedly in every of the Instagram suicide and self-harm hashtags: “No one cares unless you’re pretty or dying.” But there have been other people too:

I am hoping my breath that is last is sigh of relief.

disgusted by my very own self

I recall exactly what you forgot

do you feel useless

please please please I want to die within my rest

This is one way you make me feel, such as a black colored mass of nothingness, a unsightly room filled with my personal sadness

We fucked up I failed — it absolutely was my catastrophe — my option — We just didn’t expect you’ll feel so very bad — so foolish therefore scared of ever being moved.

Each one of these but especially the last one remind me of Tracey Emin’s artwork. There’s component inside her essay “You Left Me Breathing” where she writes in regards to the dissolution of a relationship:

You left me — you left me personally breathing — simply half alive — curled up like some little infant seal, clubbed half to death — you left me alone — you left me breathing — half alive —

Half alive isn’t that is dead regarding the coast, blood seeping to the water, but not really dead. I attempted to think about and keep in mind the days whenever I had cried, not merely rips that went down my cheeks, nevertheless the breathless sobs of overwrought, uncontrollable feeling.

We don’t determine whenever we, being a culture, feel compelled to extend sympathy that is much those people who are half alive. Half alive is certainly not dead.

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