I really have to think and I end up telling them that I don't know. I just don't know why I tried. Because, when it comes down to it, it really is a complex question. I mean, after all, they're asking me to give them a reason to not live. They want to know why I don't find life precious anymore. And, well, I can't really answer that.
All I know is that death was an escape route. I needed out. Fast. And death was there. It was there, taunting me, and no one was there to tell me no. No one was there. So I did it...and, as always, I failed.
In the end, though, it didn't really matter. I was already dead inside. For months, I couldn't find a reason to get up in the morning, and no one could find me one either. I stopped believing in myself, and no one else believed either.
And isn't that it right there? Isn't that death: when you're lost and no one cares enough to help you find your way? When you stop having faith? When no one loves you anymore? Isn't that death?
