“When I was in middle school and early high school, maybe sixth to ninth grade, I contemplated suicide a lot, and I made some very poor attempts, probably not very serious ones.
But especially when I was 12, I thought that I would die because I was so unhappy. I thought my heart would just stop. And when it continued going, it was a mystery to me why I didn’t just drop dead from life being impossibly horrible.
So when I was in high school, maybe 14, I was cooking dinner with my mom, maybe stirring something on the stove, and I said to her, ‘I feel sorry for people who commit suicide. They must be really sad.’ I guess I was trying to provoke a conversation. I must have been desperate to do that because we did not talk about anything. I did not make it an obvious reference to me, but I remember she shut me down really fast and sharply. She said, ‘People who commit suicide are selfish!’
So I said, ‘okay’ and just kept stirring, and that was the end of the conversation.”