The ultimate danger of suicide is not merely that it ends your life, but that it breaks everyone else’s lives. And not in that “Everyone would be better off without me” kind of way that you might have become familiar with if you have suicidal thoughts. To the people who love you, it is your inability to accept their love that causes them the most pain. Eventually, your parents won’t care that you racked up psychiatry bills; your friends won’t remember the times you woke them looking for solace, or made them drive across the city to pick up your drunk ass or whatever. No one will remember you “being a bother”; but the pain of your death will haunt everyone who loved you for the rest of their lives. Nothing will ever remove that sadness and guilt from them.
Trust me: the people who love you would rather clean up your messes a million times over than see you dead. They’d rather get dozens of texts from you that say things like, “I don’t know where I am. Can you take me home?” than get a single text from someone else that says, “She’s gone.” They’d rather stand outside a doctor’s room at therapy session after therapy session than stand over your lifeless body in a casket. They’d rather buy you things you need now than buy flowers for your grave.
The people who love you will do anything to keep you alive, even if it means you hating them for it – for doing things like forcing you to go to therapy or ratting out your self-destructive behavior to your family and other friends. They’d rather you live without them than remain close to you until you die.