In middle school, my home room teacher once gave me a piece of paper and told me to crumple it up. So I did. Then, she told me to straighten it out. So I did. Except, it wouldn’t go back to the way it was before. It was full of creases and folds. She told me this is what happens when you hurt someone. You can never undo the damage done.

I understand the purpose she’s trying to convey, it's a good lesson to teach children, but she isn't entirely correct. A piece of paper doesn’t have to stay crumpled forever. You can get it back to the way it was before. Mush it down to paper pulp and remake it, maybe. Or use a hydraulic press to flatten it. Sure, it’s a lot of effort, but it’s not impossible.

A person doesn’t stay crumpled forever. They’re stronger than paper. They can remake who they are and come back better than ever.

A person doesn’t stay broken forever. It’s a painful progress, sure, but it’s not impossible.

Never give up on yourself.

It was at a small Pizza Hut in my small town. I hadn't been there in a few months, but something in my gut told me I needed Pizza Hut. So, that's where we went, my dad and I.

The service was bad. It took them forever to get our drinks, and about twice as long to get our food. I felt bad for dragging my father out.

The pizza was good. Average. We talked about high school and college and the future. We stayed longer than we had orginally planned, getting lost in time and conversation. An angry baby a few tables over kept screaming, piercing our eardrums every once in a while.

We stood up to leave. We went to pay, where a young girl was helping us check out. She had dyed-black hair pulled half-up-half-down. Her glasses were cirular.

I waited on a bench as Dad paid. As he was scribbling his signature on the reciept, he called out to me.

I glanced his way and stood up. I made my way over to him, mumbling out a "hmm?" as I looked over his shoulder.

He looked up at the girl as he handed her the reciept. "Show her your tattoo," he said to the girl behind the counter.

The girl smiled shyly as she lifted her arm and flipped over her wrist, exposing an elegant tattoo of roses with stems and petals and thorns.

But it was not the tattoo my dad wanted me to notice. Nor was it the thing that caught my eye.

Instead, it was the small scars that lined up her arm, reaching all the way to her elbow crease. There were quite a few, all faded but noticeable.

Without a moment of hesitation, I looked up at her, into her round glasses that framed small, strong eyes.

"It's beautitful," I said, as I plastered on the warmest smile that I could muster.

Her small, strong eyes framed by round glasses lit up. Her cheeks lifted into a crooked smile, exposing crooked teeth. She radiated light.

She nodded at me, but I could tell she was happy. And thankful.

She continued to grin as we left, and I knew what I had done.

My heart felt fuzzy and sad. Full and empty.

Despite the annoying baby, the terrible service, the subpar pizza, I was there that night for a reason.

A purpose.

To the girl with the dyed-black hair and slender build. With round glasses and small eyes. With pale skin and scars. With the elegant rose tattoo.

You are beautiful.

Huh!

You’re suicidal? I guess I’m being very rude...

Okay! Let’s take it this way..

Talk. Talk to me. I want to know what made you so despondent.

Talk.. It gives a vent to your rage inside that you are trying to hide..

It’s no good, dear.. Don’t hold onto it.. You will not feel good if you do.

Talk to me.. Tell me how you feel when you hear the rain splashing against the windows.. Tell me how you feel when you hold a warm, fuzzy puppy in your arms or hold a kitten tight to yourself?

Tell me.. I wanna know..

Okay.. Maybe you want more evidence of my trust.. See- I’ll be sharing with you a secret. Not even my parents know that.. Only you.. Cause I know you will be finding your way out if I help you with my bit..

I tried to kill myself.. You heard it right.

That was around a year and a half back.. I was blue most times.. Lost in a haze.. Trying to break through but time and again I couldn’t..

I ended up tightening the noose around my neck but moments before I was to hit my last breath, I thought something... What is the benefit of my death?

If I die, someone will shed a tear or two.. Talk about me and my insane mind for a bit and then forget me.. I will be lost in death as much as in life..

I didn’t want that. Do you?

So I thought of fighting back. Whenever I saw the glint of the knife I refused to picture myself slicing my veins.. Instead I told my brain to shut up and think positive.

It worked. And I believe it’d work for you too.

You have lost your focus? Refocus.

You have lost your destination? Check your route map.

You have lost words? Speak out to yourself and to the world.

If they don’t hear, scream, pierce their eardrums.. You will be heard.

You want freedom.. Find it yourself. No one will help you in the last innings.. That’s the game. You will have to be there for ‘you’. Believe me. I’ve been there and I’ve won.

It’s okay to not be okay, buddy! Just kiss life on its lips.. ’Cause I know it sucks.

Face yourself and make up your mind. Tell your mind that you aren’t afraid to give it a try..

You know what? We have to try out and only then do we know where we stand..

Come on! Still feeling lonesome? Write out your heart.. It feels good to pour some angst onto the paper and refill your empty tumbler with patience and courage.

You can do it.. Not for me.. Not for anyone else but you..

Hear your inner voice that doesn’t want to snuff out the light of life..

Listen to me.. A perfect stranger.. Yet your well wisher. I don't want you to die. I want you to live.. To kick death in it's face is a victory, isn't it?

Stop looking at those pills for eternal sleep.. Stop peering at the silver knife.. Stop thinking of hanging yourself from the fan.. Goodness! You haven't committed a crime!..

It gives me hope to think that you will find my words here and correct your methods.. I wish you all the best for your life ahead..

If you feel unwanted, kindly remind yourself that there's someone on this planet who wrote out a letter to you for she wants you to live...

Yours truly,

Wordlove..

P.S. Let me know when you punch the monster in its nose!

Hope. Hope is a “different” word. Hope means wanting something to happen. It also means trust. I like both of the, but if I had to choose, I’d choose the second one. I’ve had moments where I felt like I really didn’t belong anywhere. In other words, I felt worthless. In those moments, those close to me noticed something was wrong. They asked me multiple times whether I was okay. “I’m fine!” Is all I said while faking a smile. They weren’t dumb enough to be tricked by that.

I was at my lowest. I had pushed all my friends away. My family didn’t know how to deal with this, so they didn’t do anything. I felt like the only hope, the only light, in my life had disappeared. It left me, leaving me behind in an empty dark void all by myself. I lost my ability to trust anyone that day.

A few days later, one of my “friends” asked me a question. “Are you okay?” As usual I replied with a smile. He saw right through me. He gripped my shoulders. “Don’t lie. Tell me the truth. What’s wrong?” Hearing those words, my emotions took over me. I started crying. He smiled. When I finally got control over myself, he asked. “Do you trust me?”

I told him what was happening to me, and he was kind enough to listen all the way through. After I finished, he said something I’ll never forget. I don’t think I can forget it. “You don’t need to solve everything on your own. You need to trust people, rely on people. You’ll witness betrayal, you’ll witness heart break, but all I know you’re going to be just fine. You wanna know why? Because you’re you! I’ve seen things. I know you can do it. I know it! And, I’ll be with you every step of the way. When things get rough, I’ll always have your back.” After months of wandering in the darkness alone, I had finally found a light. This light was far brighter than anything before. This light filled the darkness, revealing a beautiful world. All I had to do to find it. Trust.

Hope... It's something I wish I had. We all start in the world demanding and needy, it's a survival skill. It just ever so happens that in my life, pride isn't acceptable. Being american raised by a cishet normative society, I never fit in. People born with XX chromosomes mature faster because society demands that we be better than men to be their equals. But no matter how hard a person may try to live the ideal american dream, something comes along to destroy everything.

I've been hurt by many people. Because that, I was a cruel child, not wanting to be hurt to taken advantage of ever again. I worked to fix it, I just wanted to feel like I was fitting in. I was depressed going into 4th grade (year 5 for the people of the UK), at the time nobody believed me when I said it. They didn't believe me until I gave them a reason to, I told my mom about how I was harmed sexually as a child. Her mind was immediately changed on the matter.

Because in her mind, only a person who has suffered can be depressed.

She had puberty depression, I was just born with the natural dissposition for it. Not that she didn't have other reasons, but that's not my story to tell.

I'm sorry, that I can't write you something of hope. I don't think I'll ever grow out of my anxiety or depression. In all honesty I think it's getting worse, I'm honestly not sure how I managed before my meds, but I know that I need an up in the dosage. Thank you for finding and giving this hotline to those who need it, I know I do.

I don't want to die, but sometimes I feel it's the only escape from the pain. The only reason I haven't is because I'm worried I'll just be hurt when I'm not even around it witness it. When I imagine passing, I also think of what my mother would do. I feel if I died, my corpse would be defiled and my mother would condone it as a punishment for being so weak.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to hurt myself.

I don't want to be sad all the time.

But it's not a choice I have. So, thank you. Your words mean so much to me, I-just thank you. I'm not a hopeful person, I truly don't believe I'll get any better. But people like you make it worth sticking around.

Thank you.

You can say what you want to say,

It doesn’t matter to me anyway.

You may laugh at who I am,

And make fun of the way I stand.

Your words are a thousand shards of glass,

They make my soul ache and tug at my broken heart.

Your words are a stone-cold dagger,

Wouldn’t you rather just pull the trigger?

You can believe what you want to believe,

It doesn’t matter to me if you’re too blind to see.

You can go your own dark way,

And one day, I will find my own place.

You can say what you want to say,

It doesn’t matter to me anyway.

You may laugh at who I am,

And make fun of the way I stand.

But somewhere in the darkness,

Though I may be drowning in humiliation and sadness,

There really is only one true truth,

That the one who is really suffering is only you.

You may try and paint me black with all your hurtful rumours,

And stagger along my past like a thirsty, blood-sucking tumour.

But I am fearless, I am strong,

I have learnt, I have been hurt for far too long.

People talk,

People spit words.

Go ahead and speak to your heart’s content,

Just know that your speech will not succeed in its intent.

When all else fails, I find time with animals makes me feel better. Pictured is "KittyBear" a rescue cat that had gone through some traumas before I got him and to look at him in the picture, you wouldn't know it. I find inspiration in animals, cats especially, as emotional creatures like humans. KittyBear was/is also a conduit for me to explore unconditionally loving another life. Hugging and forgiving him for any and everything (not that he didn't get chided/trained within some boundaries.)

When I think I've forgotten what love, unconditional-forver love feels like, I consult KittyBear and remind myself, then turn it toward myself, that unconditional love.

Do you unconditionally love another life?

another_proser

Hey there. It's terrible, I know. I understand. I cannot say when this fog will lift, but lift it will. One day you will get better. Here is a Hindi couplet which keeps me going when I feel hopeless-

Aaj bura hai, Kal achcha aayega

Waqt hi to hai, Badal jayega.

Roughly it translates to-

'Today is bad, tomorrow will be good.

It is only time, after all; it will change'.

Remember, this too shall pass. Stay strong. God bless you.