Stories on Depression: Words Can Be Powerful, So Make Sure to Use Them Right
Editor’s note: If you experience suicidal thoughts, the words in the following post could be potentially triggering. Call your closest friend, family member or search for Mental health or Rehab centres near you and get yourself admitted.
When I was in my first year of high school, I noticed that my classmates were very more different than me, I first didn’t mind that. I just tried to get good grades and try to make friends. And I made a few, but it was like I was just a “friend” not a best friend or close friend to anyone. I never got the inside jokes or got invited to sleepovers. And it wouldn’t be that bad if nothing happened a half year later. Because when that half-year passed, I noticed that a boy from my class seemed to look at me a lot in class. I wondered why that was so, and obviously, I couldn’t resist the daydreaming of him having a crush on him.
After a few weeks we were going on a trip, and since we had to go on the bus, we had to sit with someone. I would normally just sit in the front, looking out of the window. But, I was very surprised when the boy who looked at me in class was sitting next to me.
Everyone was a bit surprised, but the boy just sat there and began talking to me. As the bus was driving, some friends of the boy had settled in the seats behind ours. I couldn’t really remember what happened, but what I do know is that the boy next to me began to make jokes about me, being the third wheel of the girls every time.
The boy noticed that he got attention for the jokes he made, so he began to make more jokes about me. I never really got made fun of in public, but what most hurt from the experience of that bus ride was that no one even CARED that it might have hurt me. And I also realized that a word can be so tiny, and can be spoken out so easily, but can break someone so hard and so bad.
The whole trip I just walked with the teacher, saying nothing. As the way back, the boys from my class al sat next to me and began to make more and more jokes.
You see, parents expect their children to tell these things to them. But what they don’t realize is that if you tell them, you actually realize that you are being bullied, but what you WANT is to just to everyone to forget that the made jokes were about you. The thing that made me not tell my parents I was being laughed was because I wanted to pretend it just never happened, because I was so scared to see the reality, to face those boys. You see, parents might see those boys as children with a big mouth. But for kids, it’s a whole other thing.
You’re popular, or you are made fun of. And the fear of being made fun of is so strong that you can literally just say to someone: “Hey, push that dude and then I will hang out with you” Because people are so dumb and scared of that stupid popularity that they will really do that, believe me.
As for the boys in my class, they didn’t stop bullying me. But not in the way like pushing, or kicking me. But with those, Painfully and harsh words. They would not touch me, but they just knew how to make that ONE comment that would break my confidence and make me speechless and a perfect target for the other upcoming jokes.
A few weeks later I realized I maybe was not good enough, and that there may be a reason they were bullying me. That it was just the way I looked, talked or maybe dressed. I woke up, thought about those things, got to school, and went to sleep with the same thoughts again.
It was almost the end of my senior year when I became really really sick.
I slept less, didn’t have the energy for anything, even eating seemed like an impossible task. The way my mind was on that time was like this; If I wanted to do something, like eating, I thought about the words those boys said to me, and I thought: It wouldn’t change a damn thing if I would eat. I won’t stop the hurt.
I passed a few weeks until my parents had a talk with my teacher. My grades were dropping. I normally was a very good student, not like straight A’s- but B’s and B+ were my most grades. But since I didn’t did my homework, and didn’t pay attention in class because I was so sleepy. It wasn’t that hard to tell my grades weren’t that good at that time.
My parents were very mad at me and said I needed to put more attention to school.
A few weeks later, I thought more and more about things like death, sucide and how it would be if I wasn’t in the world anymore. I thought so much about I even made a book about it. I wrote sucide notes and plans about what I would do if I had only one day to live. What I would say, would wear, and would do. It might sound crazy, and silly, but it really made me calm and I finally had something to free my pain and hurt in.
But one day, I was sitting in class, being happy that it was almost weekend and that I could finally have some time to write in my notebook. A girl suddenly came up to, I didn’t expect people to talk to me on that time, because every girl was treating me like trash, I most likely stayed away from the girls from my class. But this time she didn’t handle me as some kind of trash. Instead, she actually was nice. She asked me if she could sit next to me, I mumbled “Ofc..” While trying to figure out what the hell was happing. Because, if someone from my class would be nice to me, it would normally be from a prank. But this time.
It was.. different.
I talked the whole hour with that girl, she told me that her name was Lia, and we both laughed about her story about dumb things she did as a kid. At the end of the lesson, she asked me if I wanted to hang out with her friends and her. I was kinda scared to say yes because her “friends” weren’t really a fan of me, no one actually was. But there was something in the way she laughed and smiled at me, that made me feel like I could actually be friends with her.
She told me she was going to pick me up in the park at 16:00 with her friends. So, I made sure I was perfectly on time, as I entered the park, I realized I finally could have friends. It was so nice to realize that.
After some time in the park, I began to wonder if she actually was coming..
I waited, and waited.. while watching the leaves blow away from my face, like the only thing they had to do in their life was to just float on the beat of the wind. I waited.
Sometime later I looked at the time and noticed I already waited an hour.
I told myself I was gonna wait a little bit longer, just a little bit. I scrolled through my phone while waiting for the girls. I saw Lia had updated her story. I saw a picture of people from my class, laughing, eating, and maybe even some people at the back of the photo on their phone. “Party with the whole squad ✨??” Was the text under it.
And that was the moment.
I wanted to die.
And it may have been a shock for me to realize I already wanted to die on such a younger age. And I really wish I didn’t want to die. But I really knew on that moment, with every cell in my bones, that I really wanted to end myself at that moment. And maybe it wasn’t only that moment that made me snap, it maybe was all the pieces that made my life so horrible, that were just too much for my bones to carry my living heartbeat.
And what actually was the reason I wanted to die at that moment?
That’s right; Words, words, and words.
Words can make a promise, can make jokes, can make horrible.
People don’t know how much powerful things they can do with words. Words might not break rocks or can beat someone in a fight but wounds heal. Words are always there in your head, and you can’t delete them, even though you want it so much. Words can make a sword and cut, you divide a line between dying and living, and can cut the lines of the bridge, you boil to confidence.
Don’t let your words come down to others like swords, let words be a bandage that can help others to heal again.
Again, Words can be powerful, so make sure to use them right.
This was the suicide letter from my 14-year-old self, I always kept it in my box with notebooks. I didn’t really know what to do with it, so I decided to give this letter to this story web, Hire the Youth. I know it’s not the perfect letter or, perfect language used, but what I do want people to know from this letter and the story that was in it, that words can be more powerful than you think. That if you make a joke and think that person doesn’t care- you might be wrong and your words come in like something very serious for that person.
I don’t really know what you guys are going to do with this letter. But I want it to be used as an example of how painful words can be and what kind of effects they can have on someone.
By the way, my mental health has grown better, I have been getting help for my suicidal thoughts and have met amazing persons that helped me so much through the experience I had in the senior year. I really hope this story can help people understand the meaning of words and the bad side of it.
Story by Anonymous
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