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This is not my post. This post is written by my very good friend and a blessed writer Devi.

Alice was fed up of listening to these things about her. She wanted to go to work. She knew she could do well if only she managed to reach the office. Once upon a time she was a star performer at her work. She was promoted at every promotion cycle. But now, she can no longer go. It is all his fault. And maybe her fault too, Alice thought. Both of them had ruined Alice’s life. Their words – their hateful words.
“You look so fat in that dress”, “Look at you! You look horrible. No wonder you do not have a boyfriend! Who would want you? You are such a loser.”, “What is the point of living a life like yours? Why are you putting in so much trouble just to live this mediocre, insignificant life?”
Alice was tired of listening to this day in and day out. Her work had suffered. Her friendship and relationship had suffered. Now a days, she survived on water, only if she managed to drag herself to the sink to get a glass. Some days, even that felt like a task and she just lie there on her bed for the entire day. She thought she had a pet. One day she went looking around the apartment if she had one. But maybe she was hallucinating. Or maybe knowing that it won’t get anything to eat or drink, the pet (was it a dog? Or a cat?) must have left her for a better life elsewhere.
“Even pets who love everyone, cannot stand you. Don’t you think that is an indication?”
Alice had tried to reach out to her friends once. She genuinely did try to talk. But everyone else had a life to lead and they could not give enough time for her calls. They could not talk to her long enough for her to ask for help or for them to understand that she needed help.
“No one cares about you. Don’t you understand that? You are not wanted by anyone anymore. Your life is useless. You are useless. You are a waste of space, a burden to this world.”
“I wish I had more courage”
Those were the words written on a piece of paper next to her, when someone found her dead on the floor by an overdose of sleeping pills. What more could she write? She could never confess that her own mind had encouraged her to take this step.
“If only I could talk to someone…” remained unsaid on her suicide note