TO THE GIRL WHO JUMPED OFF THE ANDREW BUILDING

I don’t know you. I only have seen the details and some pictures in social media and I’m not really sure if it’s all true. Regardless, I’m sorry. I heard that maybe you got too pressured with your school and you didn’t get the passing grades. I’m sorry you thought too much importance of such mundane things. I’m sorry the society fucks up with these standards. I just want you to know that your intellect can’t be measured by how well you do in academics. I heard your boyfriend just broke up with you. I only could imagine how much it tear you apart. I’m sorry you had to go through such heartbreak amidst other tough things already present on your plate.

I’m sorry if no one saw it coming. I’m sorry if you had to go through depression alone. I’m sorry it all happened so fast—so sudden. Or maybe not.

architecture.jpg
photo source

But you know what made me so stunned I couldn’t breathe? The words that roundabout saying you regretted jumping off that you tried to hold on to the railing until your last breath—and that made your hand broke off. LIKE REALLY, PEOPLE?? HOW DO YOU KNOW? WERE YOU THERE? IF YOU WERE, DID YOU DO SOMETHING TO STOP IT? I am so confused. But I want to let you know that that kind of idea these people spread will haunt me forever. The thought of you trying to hold on. The thought of you with so much terror in your eyes and the repentance in your decision. The thought of you crying for help when it’s too late. It will haunt me forever—that infinitesimal second that you decided you still wanted to live. It’s too late. I hope it wasn’t too late. I hope you talked to someone. I hope you sought for help. I don’t know what you have gone through. I just hope you guide and give strength to everyone you left behind. You may not have had a strong heart but I believe you got a big heart. You probably gave your all to others that you emptied yourself.

I have read somewhere that we only get to be loved twice—when we were born and when we die, and the rest we have to get by. I’m sorry if you didn’t feel loved in between. I’m sorry if you think people only care about you now. I’m pretty sure that it’s not true. I hope you have seen all the good that surrounded you. But again, it’s too late. I can only wish you peace.

Suicide makes me want to tear off my skin because I can feel it deep down in my bones. We need a better mental health awareness because we are all in the verge of the building’s ledge.


I don’t know if anyone of you remember this incident last October 2016. I have this on my drafts since then but I just felt the need to post it now when Junice mentioned 13 Reasons Why. It’s on Netflix now and the series just reminded me how much I love the book and how much it changed me for the better.

Please, talk to someone.

Or call the HOPE hotline:

(02) 805-HOPE (4673)

0917 558 HOPE (4673)

Or MESSAGE me. I’m here to listen. Always.

vienna-wp

Advertisements