Content Warning & Disclaimer:
This article discusses mental health and passive suicide, which may be triggering for some readers. The reflections shared here are based on personal thoughts and observations and are not intended as medical advice or a substitute for guidance from a licensed mental health professional. Please prioritise your well-being while reading.
College campuses are loud. There’s always something happening — assignments, internships, breakups, birthdays, midterms, or plans for the future. Everyone seems to be moving somewhere. And in the middle of all that noise, there are people quietly wishing they didn’t have to exist at all. Not in a dramatic way, or in a way that makes headlines. Just in the quietest and the most exhausting way possible. Passive suicidal thoughts don’t look like what we’ve been taught to watch out for. There’s no final note, no clear plan, no visible breakdown. It’s not like “I’m going to end my life” but more like, “If something happened to me, I wouldn’t stop it”. It’s walking across a busy road and thinking, if a car hits me right now, I wouldn’t even be mad about it. It’s lying in bed at night hoping you just don’t wake up, not because you actively want to die, but because you’re too tired to keep doing this again tomorrow.
It’s a strange middle space where you don’t want to kill yourself, but you also don’t really want to be alive. So you exist in this quiet in-between where you’re not chasing death, but you’re not avoiding it either. If it came easily, accidentally, without effort on your part, you think you might just accept it and that’s the part no one sees. From the outside, you look functional. You go to class, you submit assignments, you laugh at your friends’ jokes, you post stories. You show up. But inside, you are negotiating with life every single day. You’re not planning five years ahead. You’re not dreaming big. You’re just trying to survive until bedtime. And even that feels like work.
You start doing small reckless things, not because you love the thrill, but because the outcome doesn’t scare you anymore. You cross the street without looking carefully, you drive a little too fast in the rain, you stand a little too close to the edge of a platform. It’s not adrenaline you’re chasing, it’s the possibility that something might happen so you don’t have to make it happen yourself. And then there’s the emotional whiplash. You can be laughing one minute, genuinely laughing with your friends and then suddenly you go quiet. The laughter fades away and something heavy settles in your chest. Your friends keep talking. You nod. But inside, a wave of sadness crashes out of nowhere. There isn’t always a reason but it’s just there, like it’s been waiting.
You joke about dying all the time, “oh my god I don’t want to live”, “I’d rather be dead than go through this”. Everyone laughs, and you laugh too, but sometimes you’re not entirely joking. Humor becomes the safest way to tell the truth without being taken seriously. And because dark jokes are normal now, no one really takes it seriously. Over time, even your reactions change. Failures don’t hurt the way they used to. Success doesn’t feel exciting either. It all feels… distant. You tell yourself none of it really matters in the long run. After all, you’re not even sure you see yourself in that long run. The future feels blurry, like a place other people will get to but you won’t. So you stop planning. You stop imagining. You focus only on getting through today.
There’s also this quiet exhaustion that never really leaves. You’re not necessarily crying every day and sometimes you’re not even visibly sad. You’re just drained. Existing feels heavier than it should. Decisions feel overwhelming, even things you used to love don’t spark the same way anymore. You’re not in crisis mode, you’re in survival mode. And survival mode can last for years.
What makes passive suicidal thoughts so dangerous is how easy they are to hide. They don’t scream, they whisper. They blend into sarcasm and “I’m just tired” and “It’s not that deep”. They look like someone who’s just a little more reckless, a little more detached, a little less excited about life than everyone else. But underneath that detachment is pain. And underneath that pain is usually someone who has been strong for far too long.
If any of this feels familiar, it doesn’t mean you’re broken. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, and it definitely doesn’t mean you’re beyond help. Passive suicidal thoughts are not attention-seeking. They are a sign that something inside you is overwhelmed, overworked, and aching for relief. You deserve more than just surviving your own life. You deserve support before things get louder. Talk to someone you trust, reach out to a counselor or a therapist or just seek help from the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. There are people trained to listen, even if you don’t know how to explain what you’re feeling yet. Not wanting to exist isn’t the same as wanting to die. Sometimes it’s just a sign that you’re unbearably tired of carrying everything alone. And tired people don’t need to disappear. They need rest. They need care. They need someone to notice. And maybe, just maybe, they need to believe that one day existing won’t feel this heavy anymore.
If this resonated with you, I hope you know you’re not alone, and if you’d like to read more of my work, you can find it on my profile at Her Campus at MUJ.
If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255 or text HOME to the Crisis Text Line at 741741. You can also reach out to the Trans Lifeline at 877-565-8860 or the Trevor Lifeline at 1-866-488-7386, or to your local suicide crisis center.