Suicide.
It is a taboo word to most. More so to others who have known someone (or of someone) who pass by their own hand. Many think it's the desperate act of chicken. Others, a desperate cry for help that came too late. Some say it is an abomination of one's soul and God doesn't allow you to enter the gates of heaven. Those who attempt it, see as the only alternative, a silence to the madness, a sweet sleep that will finally take all the pain and struggle away. I see it as another brother or sister, losing the battle against an illness that even the strongest man alive would have troubles winning... with out the proper help.
I opened my homepage to a news bit of yet another sister who lost the fight. RIP Country singer,
Mindy McCready. I didn't know you, but I felt your pain before. The only difference between you and me, is I made it through. This time.
It seems befitting that today I would be sharing this previous post.
I Was a Chicken: The Bloggess said in her post "Your friends and family want you…broken or not." I agree wholeheartedly. Damaged is far better than dead.
Marinate on that thought for a moment.
"Your friends and family want you... broken or not." Thank you
Bloggess!
