The characters I write are all, in one way or another, broken. I write about broken and damaged characters because in my experience, the damaged person is the norm, not the exception.
We are all, to one degree or another, in some way --- broken. That is not a bad thing. Many of us survive and even thrive from the world’s efforts to break us. Additionally, as writers, understanding the broken within ourselves, allows us to understand, and further explore the broken in others, and eventually, in our characters.
Some who are damaged, eventually are broken and don’t thrive or survive. They live in a hell that is within the confines of their mind. To escape, they may try drink or drugs or delusion. Sadly, those who can not cope, those who can not find help, those who never find solace or comfort, end up making a decision that to us lacks logic and reason. A decision that is wrongly labeled selfish or cowardly. One made by someone who is “not in their right mind,” or “not full control of their faculties.” These conclusions do little to help us understand what leads to the decision. They provide no comfort for those who now feel abandoned. It is a great error to apply logical thinking to illogical actions. It is an even greater error not to see why someone may think their actions are logical, even when to most they are not.
Suicide occurs every day. In one way or another, it has touched us all.
Sometimes, it is done suddenly and unexpectedly.
Sometimes, suddenly and expectedly.
Sometimes, it is done slowly, over time.
No matter the how or the why --- it leaves those left behind with many more questions than answers.
It leaves those left behind with grief.
It leaves those left behind with remorse.
It leaves those left behind with unimaginable, unending and undeserved guilt.
This story is dedicated to those who could no longer survive, and to those who remain behind, and have no choice but to do so.