A veces su corazón se sentía solo. Algunas veces en lo más profundo de su mente, él quería una buena familia. Una buena madre siempre allí para él y un buen padre que pudiera cuidar de él como si todavía fuese un niño pequeño. Sin embargo, esos deseos se ahogaban en lagos de lágrimas porque él sabía que esas cosas nunca podrían pasar. O al menos, serían cosas que nunca podrían pasarle a él.

"Bad days don't end." They cribbed.  "They do." He said.  "How?" "When you come home to a wagging tail and a woof."

Rupert came out onto the balcony. “Give me back my daughter!” the voice came from the house across the street. “Sir, please just accept me!” “I will when you die!” “Rebecca’s happy with me.” “Happiness is overrated!” “I am faithful.” “So’s a dog. Doesn’t mean you marry it.” “Then, you are a dog too!” “…” “…” “Annie, dear, where is my rifle?” “Rebecca, honey, is the gate closed?” It wasn't.

José María and his brother Nicolás we're my students. Very sweet, kind, happy guys. They had a loving family. I always remembered them, while talking to a colleague I asked about them, she said José María had been feeling blue and moved with his mom, when she went shopping he jumped from the balcony. What could have happened to that sweet boy, a young man in his early twenties to take his life. I can't take his smiling face and his family out of my head. RIP my sweet boy find peace in God's arms

—Remember we were talking about having a child? We'll have them! —Really? James stood up and gave her a hug. —I'm glad! Finally a little one. —They're not that small. He looked at her confused, thinking it was a strange joke when she didn't even have a belly. —I don't know the exact ages, but they must be at least about 8 or 9 years old. James listened at her feeling chills running down his spine. —But it has to be a secret, understood, Jamie? He was too scared to answer.

“ Promise me you’ll come back home.” teary-eyed she said. “ You know I always will.” hugging her he said. 8 months later he came, Wrapped up in tricolor shroud , bearing proud bullet scars on his chest.

Suicide is not a desire for death. It is a longing for escape. Ridding oneself of constant negative thoughts and feelings. It is an ongoing war of demons whispering lies in one's ear It is a kind of lonely not felt by anyone else. Your bones ache, your body feels cold and your emotions are impossible to control. It is a desire to learn about one's self And why one feels the way they do. It is not a desire for death It is a longing for life

~ Family bond. Stronger than anything supposed to fond. Successful siblings, mother and father While I'd rather Play with ponies and coloring books. We are perfect. Until the doors shut. But if you look through the nooks, You will find We are far beyond perfect. My parents serpent Siblings blind. I observe, determined To find the key. Until the doors shut We clap our hands. Then, reality holds the strands. ~