I can’t help but think about the irony as I tighten the noose around its branches. Grandpa had planted this tree with such love and hope for the future, for his grandchildren to enjoy. But here I was, standing beneath it, preparing to take my own life.
I had been struggling with depression for months, and it had become too much to bear. I was in a dark place, and I felt like I had no way out. Nothing seemed to make the pain go away.
I had come to this tree because it felt like the only thing I had left. I had no one to turn to, no one to help me. I had come here to say goodbye to this tree, the last thing that connected me to my grandpa and my childhood.
I looked up at the branches, and I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. I had come here to end my life, but I was now filled with regret. I had been so blind, so consumed with my own pain that I had not realized that I had so much to live for.
I slowly lowered the noose, and I stepped away from the tree. I took a deep breath, and I decided to fight. I would not give up, not on myself and not on the future that my grandpa had planted this tree for.
