Scene: an ordinary suburban home where A and B are getting ready to leave for work. But A’s car keys have gone missing… A: You’ve seen my car keys, haven’t you? B: Today? No, I don’t think so. A: When did I mention today? Just answer the question: you’ve seen my car keys, haven’t you? […]
This brought me to tears but I also felt so empowered while reading this. Thank you for writing this.
Having nearly died by suicide six years ago, I can imagine what people would have said about me. They would’ve talked about my deep depressions, my unpredictable rage, how lost I was.
Here’s a letter for you, Amanda, from someone “beyond help.”
You were right to judge yourself for exploiting Leah’s story, because it’s exactly what you did. You took the life of a mentally ill person and diminished it, deciding to use her struggles for your own personal gain.
Mentally ill people do not exist as entertainment for you. They do not exist as a sensational story to tell. They are not a product for your consumption. We are not property, we are not objects, we are not paychecks…
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