I recently found out a man who I dearly love and was in a relationship with years ago ended his life by shooting himself in the head. The news was old but I just found out. For me it’s as fresh as if he had just passed days ago. He suffered from bipolar and didn’t want to take pills for the rest of his life so he never attempted to even try it. I suffer from bipolar and I just took my pill simply this morning as if doing any other morning ritual. In the past, I’ve hanged, cut, overdosed, and tried stabbing myself, and I’m here still because after spiraling down into madness, I forced myself to seek help. For me, it was making the decision to take pills. I went through different pills in agony until I found the one to balance me. I had the support, love, closeness, and open conversations of my family and best friend and a few good people who allowed me to move forward so that I could go toward opportunities for myself and take it. I distanced myself from unhealthy elements. I wish I could have gotten a chance to hold the bottle in front of him and smile excitingly that ‘It works, Evan!’ and hold my hand out for him to take it.