I won’t dare romanticize suffering. I won’t tell anyone, including myself, that it happens for a reason, that it will make sense, that it’s beautiful. People suffer without a reason. Most often than not, it never makes any sense. It’s nowhere near beautiful- it’s crying yourself to sleep, it’s feeling like your life is worthless, it’s being angry all the time. It doesn’t always make someone stronger or better. It doesn’t always make a person grow. Often, it breaks you. It takes and takes until you have nothing left. It makes you lose sight of everything familiar, of everything that makes you feel safe. It destroys every inch of you, makes you a ruin beyond repair. It isn’t their fault they made their end their choice. Because for people who suffer, that end is the flickering light in a long, unending night.