It’s eight in the morning and my class starts at nine. Halfway through my commute, I slid my hands into my right pocket and realized that my earphones were nowhere to be found.
“I’m going to kill myself!”
I thought as I contemplated how my day hasn’t even started yet and it’s already going downhill. What prompted such an absurd declaration to become a normal response over something so trivial? When did I start responding to minute frustrations as if I’m being persecuted? Why indulge in such hyperbolic advert?
I mean, nobody actually means it–to an extent–but I digress. There’s this enigmatic relief at the thought of finality, similar to the first sip of hot tea on a rainy afternoon that–notwithstanding its deprecating undertones–somewhat brings comfort to me. Yet, the normalization of suicidal language as a form of hyperbole and its looming incorporation to everyday vocabulary is inadvertently dangerous.
Chronic use of suicidal language and self-deprecating indulgence gradually entered the everyday vernacular of many adolescents along with the rise of screen time and internet use. Maybe our parents were right, it is because of that phone. Language and its meaning are constantly evolving and keeping up with contemporary times. For example, “I’m dead” is most often used as a response to something chucklesome—depicting how the very same phrase can mean different things in different contexts.
The use of dramatic language evokes an immediate, amusing sense of shared suffering over trivial frustrations. It’s often acknowledged with the response of “real,” “so true,” or in the most recent internet vernacular, “based.” This is often meant as a verbal shortcut to say that this trivial matter feels momentarily overwhelming. We have used these phrases so much that they are devoid of their original meaning. So when an older adult hears you say such a phrase–regardless of humorous intent—they will most likely reprimand you to avoid such phrases in the future.
Casual use of this language to exclaim frustrations overshadows and trivializes the incomparable pain of actual mental health crises. When the same vernacular for a minor setback is identical to a genuine cry for help, how are we supposed to tell the difference? It dons an unfair burden for your friends or family members to deduce if what you just said was a joke or a literal plea for help; not to mention that it may also trigger someone who lost someone through suicide.
Our words matter. Are you frustrated? Annoyed? Flabbergasted? Apprehensive? Say that instead. Let’s be creative in words on how we express ourselves, or, at the very least, find words that are descriptive of how we truly feel. By reserving the use of suicidal language for the crisis it represents, we not only show compassion for those who are truly suffering but also make it easier to hear and help them when they truly need us. Let’s save the most serious words for the most serious moments.
Editor’s Note: This article was first issued in the December 2025 First Semester Newsletter of Atenews.
