I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it in depth. Partially because it scares me, and partially because I am ashamed of the place I went to. The emptiness in my body was haunting. I had no conscious thoughts; I was sheer bones and skin tissue. I felt nothing. Nothing except a deep sorrow, a deep hurt a knawing in my bones that I needed to escape this life. Many a nights I sat in the bathroom, contemplating if I should take my own life. Many a days I stared into space, looking for an answer. I went to church, I sat in the pew, I went through the motions, but it did nothing. Changed no feelings, filled no voids. I’ve always been a worrier, I’ve always thought out how my actions would affect the ones I loved. And although it would’ve been easier to cut myself, easier to take too many pills, easier to just escape the sadness, I knew I couldn’t leave my family. I knew one more death would surly do them in. I knew the loss of someone for selfish reasons would leave a sour taste in their mouths. So I worked at it, I started to believe, the void still there, I shoved it in the depths of my soul. I filled my life with good. Sunshine, happiness, I look for beauty. And I escaped that darkness. Sure, some days the sadness and emptiness looms. But life is worth living. So live it up.