The Young Lady wasn’t happy anymore. She was sleeping too much, or not at all. She was tired, cold, and flunking out of college. She silently screamed at the world every night, but the world never answered. She was tired, so tired; and she knew that she couldn’t go on for much longer. Her world was almost empty, except for a few of her very own tears. And her will was draining away.

The Hollow-Eyed Gentleman huddled against the chill of the night. The wind cut him to his core. He dreamed of a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee. Chicken soup and hot black coffee. The thought warmed him a little, but it was not a night for comfort. He was having flashbacks again. Bullets and shrapnel. The smell of the landmine, and the decimated truck. The sight of the blood of his brothers, colouring his nation’s uniform. He shrank further back into the corner. His mind tortured, and his will draining away.

The Disturbed Man was hearing the voice again. That voice that had convinced him of some things. He knew he was worthless; he knew that nobody cared, and he knew that he wasn’t supposed to be here anymore. He thought about his family, and that dog next door. He decided to leave a note for the dog, because he thought the dog might miss him. Empty bottles cluttered his kitchen, sofa, and bedroom. Amid the haze, the voice kept calling. Calling. Calling. His neighbour found him two days later. His family was devastated, nobody thought to check on the dog.

The Elderly Woman was in her favourite rocker, beside the fire. She appeared to be reading, but mostly she was remembering. The portrait of her daughter still rested on the mantle, where it had been for 27 years. She smiled at her mother through the frame. A tear rolled down the woman’s wrinkled cheek. She thought about her only daughter; the daughter she couldn’t save.

The writer finished up his last paragraph. He decided to write it about himself. He has been dealing with suicidal ideation for the last 5 years. At some points it has been front and center in his life. He has spent days thinking about ending it all. But as he thinks about life, he is grateful for it. He will finish his blog with one phrase:

Be Here Tomorrow.