⚠️ SUICIDE PREVENTION POST ⚠️

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⚠️ SUICIDE PREVENTION POST ⚠️

(Read it. Don’t scroll past. This is real.)

I’ve come to grips with the fact that I’ll probably die alone in this apartment.

Not because I want to.

But because some of you have made it clear you’d rather see that happen than spend a couple hours with someone who’s struggling. Someone who tells you outright that your presence might help their mental health.

You’ve also made it clear that you’d rather let people die than buy a $0.99 book—even when 100% of the profits go to suicide prevention. Not for me. For people hanging by a thread.

And yeah… it hurts.

But here’s one thing you’ll never be able to say about me:

🖤 “He didn’t try.”

Because even after being kicked, banned, blacklisted, ignored, unfriended, and exiled—I’m still here.

Still fighting.

Still writing.

Still trying to breathe life into a world where someone dies by suicide every 40 seconds.

And Guthrie? Let’s talk.

There’s ZERO budget records for suicide prevention in this town.

But hey—we’ve got signs begging for money to “Keep the Pool Cool.”

Guess that’s more important than keeping people alive, huh?

So yeah, I’m starting to live with the silence.

I’m starting to accept that you’ll see my posts and scroll past.

That you won’t buy the book.

That you’ll pretend I’m not worth your time—even if I told you I was hurting.

But here’s what I won’t believe:

That I’m a failure.

You want me to feel like one—because you won’t help.

Because you won’t show up.

Because you can’t face your own inaction.

But I’m not a failure.

I’m a mirror.

And you’re terrified of what it shows you.

So go ahead.

Look away.

But I’ll still be here.

For whoever needs me.

Until my last fucking breath.