Almost six years later, I am new. I am happy, balanced, fully-functional. But at the end of the day, that person who couldn’t bear the idea of living is still inside me. Like new mothers after childbirth, my body shields me from remembering the pain of that year, the faint echo of a memory is all that’s left, serving as a depth marker for how far down I can go. I have seen my rock bottom, shone light on the unimaginable, so I may never again sink that low.
The Art of Not Dying: A Story for Suicide Awareness Month.
MC Hentz

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