Most of the time, even.
Mental illness is an annoyingly personal journey that you just have to walk through.
Words don’t really matter, actions don’t either. I wish they did.
I watch my friends in pain and it kills me. I tell them the things that made a difference to me, I sob telling them how much I love them and how much I would miss them but it never matters as much as I want it to.
It doesn’t matter how much I tell them that they are beautiful, inside and out. They don’t believe me – they can’t. It’s part of the thing and it sucks.
I don’t mean this to sound as negative as it does, it just so happens that the truth really sucks.
My point is that you can’t expect to save your friends. You can’t save them from the monsters in their head, only they can. Love them anyway. Choose to care about them anyway. It won’t be easy and it will hurt when it feels like your love isn’t enough.
I’ve been suicidal and I remember when nothing anyone did or said mattered but it still kills me when my friends say they’re suicidal. And it’s a pain I can’t describe. What do you mean? You, you beautiful wonderful magnificent human who brings so much good and love into this cruel world, you want to kill yourself? Don’t you understand that I love you so much? Don’t you understand that I could never do this without you?
It’s so frustrating, but choose love. Choose it anyway. Your love may not save them, but it might give them the time they need to fight harder.
I know my love will not save my friends. It might not even help, but I will love them anyway.
The Life of a Mourning Dove 