TOO TIRED TO LIVE, TOO LOVED TO DIE

I cried out to empty skies until my voice broke in two,Because inside my head, the voices had grown too loud to get through.They were shouting, crowding, clawing at my chest,And my heart was whispering, "Please, I just want rest." My heart said, "Let me go, I cannot take this anymore,I have knocked on every door and still found no open door.This torment is too heavy, this ache is too deep,Let me close my eyes now, let me finally sleep." But my brain held my heart with shaking, bloodied hands,And said, "I know, brother, I know. But please, stand.Just stand a little longer, even if you have to crawl,Do it for mummy, whose world would crumble if you fall. Do it for your family, who speak your name with pride,Do it for your friends, who have always been by your side.Do it for the boy you were, who dreamed so wild and free,And for the man you still can be, if you just let yourself be." Yes, there were nights I tried to end it all,Nights I wrote goodbye notes on my bedroom wall.Nights I thought the world would heal if I was gone,That they would hurt less if I didn't live to dawn. I tried. God knows, I tried to leave.And each time, I woke up still having to breathe.With shame on my tongue and tears in my eyes,Asking empty skies again, "Why? Why? Why?" I fought until my knuckles bled from fighting,I fought until my own heartbeat was frightening.I fought until I had no strength left to pretend,Until I had no more fight to lend. I was tired. Not the kind sleep can fix,But the kind that lives in your bones, that makes your soul sick.Tired of smiling when I wanted to scream,Tired of living inside a broken dream. And in that tired — in that absolute end —I found the most daring thing I had ever done. I chose to stay. Not because the voices stopped.Not because the pain was gone.Not because it suddenly got easy to carry on. I chose to stay because I was tired, but I was still here.Because my family still needed me near.Because mummy still calls me her son,And I am still her son, even when I come undone. I chose to stay for me —The boy who still deserves to eat, to laugh, to be free.The boy who deserves a future beyond this pain,Who deserves to see sunshine after all this rain. So if you are listening with that same war in your head,With one voice begging to live and one wishing you were dead —Please, hear me: Stay tired. Stay broken. Stay crying on the floor.But stay. Let your tired hands dial that number.Let your tired mouth say, "I need help tonight."Let your family sit with you until morning light. You have already survived every day that tried to kill you.That is not weakness. That is proof. Proof that you are stronger than the voices that tell you to leave.Stronger than the nights that begged you to grieve your own life before it was gone. Remember this when the night tells you it's the end:Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, my friend. Your problem is real. Your pain is real.But it is temporary. You are not. And one day, you will look back at this night,At how you chose to stay even when you lost the fight,And you will weep — not from sadness, but from pride —That you stayed. That you tried. That you survived. You are still here.Breathe. Stay. Let someone love you through this.

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