Breathe.

By: Aiman Pasha

TW: Suicide Mention

The air stands still. The ground holds its breath, bracing for contact. He takes one last shaky breath as he hears his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The ground is about 90ft below him, the ledge he stands on is swaying under his shivering weight. The sight is a blur as the shadows of nearby trees tower over the surface where he is soon to meet his demise. His trembling form can taste the bitterness of death at the back of his throat, was this not what he wanted? It is. One step is all that is standing between him and the next world. The man was not one to hesitate, his mind was always clear. What is stopping him now? Is it the lingering scent of his mother in the scarf around his neck? Perhaps it is the weight of his father’s old watch on his left wrist. Breathe. He cannot breathe, his lungs are burning. One step, just one step. With a lump in his throat, letting out a pathetic cry, and shutting his swollen red eyes, he leaps.

People say that when you are close to death, your entire life flashes before your eyes. That you think about your loved ones and the times you spent with them. They’re wrong. All he could think about, in those few seconds, was how every single problem that led to this moment of vulnerability could be solved. Every single one. If he had raised his head, if he had asked for help, this time would have never come. The letters spelling out ‘regret' flickered in dark, bold font in the air over him. Was he a coward for taking the easy way out? Maybe. But his tear-stained face became emotionless, his disheveled form went limp. When the body finally collided with the ground, time seemed to stop.

You see, here is a vicious battleground, but every scar left behind for moving forward will become your medal of honor. After my suicide attempt, I ended up at the hospital, my body wrecked, and my ribs fractured. The medical professionals kept me there for 4 weeks to help me through my recovery. Every day, a psychiatrist would come to talk to me and made sure I took my Ketamine and other medications on time. The days in the hospital were the worst. The thick scent of medicine in my room would make my nostrils burn, it was suffocating. Some sleepless nights, I would try to run away, but to no avail. I initially refused to eat or talk to my therapist about anything.

The days got slower and I got weaker, it was like being stuck inside an endless loop. But I started getting better soon, it took another two weeks in the hospital before they told me I was good to go, but they sent me back with a goodie bag of prescription drugs! A while after being discharged and lots of pondering on my future, I decided I wanted to reclaim my life. I continued my work as a photographer. Though the apartment I lived in gave me anxiety because it was on the 9th floor and I jumped from my own balcony. After some house hunting, I found an affordable, small, single-unit house. The only problem was that it was in a different city. So, as a sane person would do, I moved cities. Got a new permanent job at a magazine and quite honestly I started to enjoy my pathetic days of sorrow and despair.

See, taking your own life, though sometimes feels like the light at the end of the tunnel, should never be the only option. In my case, I decided to do that because the cost of living became too much. Every single move I made required money from days of hard work. It was exhausting and started to eat away at me painfully slow, which drove me to the edge and I went into a slump. Now, recovering from a slump is difficult, sometimes people just let go of life, which is what I did. Ironically enough, when I was a teenager, I used to work part-time in our local suicide prevention hotline. And here I am again, telling you to hang on. After moving cities, I met the most wonderful people. My family and I became closer than ever. I could have achieved all this without throwing myself off a building but there was no one to guide me.

Yes, the world has a dark side, I am aware of the crimes. But, while still being aware, why not try to make even the smallest fraction of a difference. That way not only will you feel better about yourself but you will find value in life around you. Here I am right now, writing this for you while sitting next to my window. I did good and you’re doing great too. I'm looking out over the small city of lights, I feel uneasy, I want to cry. I need to cry. And a single tear slips down my cheek, my throat chokes up, I wipe away the tear and smile. I won’t cry. Saying that there will only be good things ahead, I cannot lie like that. But when winter passes, spring always comes. The me of yesterday, the me of today, the me of tomorrow. With no exceptions, it's all me. The scars that were formed by my mistakes are now my very own constellations.

Maybe there is no answer to life, maybe this is not the answer either. But, you see, loving yourself does not require anyone else’s permission. I don’t want to die anymore and going through that suffering has made me appreciate the person I am today even more. My breath is quickening, my heart is racing, I can feel it so easily that I am alive. So can you. Put your hand on your chest, count to three, smile, and let go. We worked hard, we will continue to work hard until our last breath. Let out a sigh, keep going.

(Photo by Untitled Katja)