Because he wanted to die. Because he was ill and didn’t believe he’d ever get better. Because it was his choice. Not mine. Not my parents’. We’d have chosen to keep him with us. Of course we would. But it wasn’t up to us.

- Rebecca Wait, The View on The Way Down

I have believed in the right to die - that is, the belief that people are entitled to commit suicide - since my second documented attempt. I was 15, and I wanted to die. I believed that nobody had the right to tell me otherwise. I didn't care if the future would be brighter. Now, I still believe that people have the right to die. However, I cannot help but wonder - what if these people are not really themselves? Crudely put, what if these people are not in their right minds?

Many people believe that those the mentally ill who attempt to kill themselves are not seeking death. Rather, they are seeking respite, or that it's a cry for help (especially when it comes to teens). Some who are suicidal themselves admit that all they want is for the suffering to come to an end. However, there are some who truly believe that they want to die.

I have insight into my own illness that I did not before, and (for the most part) I am able to clearly distinguish between my thoughts and the thoughts planted by depression. I then start to wonder, what if I wasn't really the one who wanted to die, all those times I attempted to kill myself? What if it was depression taking such a tight hold on me that I was no longer in control?

What if nobody actually kills themselves, and it's just something inside them taking control? It's the something that drags the blades; the something that walks you up the stairs to the highest floor; the something that murders you.

Published by Claire Leong