mental health journalist
The text came in as the water on the stove began to boil. I swiped away the timer set for five minutes from the lockscreen and read my daughter’s message. It was 12:48 p.m. on a school day. “I don’t wanna be here bruh” with an emoji of praying hands. “Come get my ahh I…
I killed myself four months ago. That is, I deleted my Facebook account and waited in purgatory for friends to text or notice I was gone. I disconnected permanently all the data associated with the profile I had created in 2007, the year I met my husband. That deceased account held in its memory the…