Maybe you’re right

I hate the idea of being pushed away…but maybe we need the space for a little bit. Maybe you’re right….but I don’t want to believe I won’t. I’ve always been there for you no matter how much I hated the topic. I was always there. I hope this doesn’t last very long….because I need you. You’re my tether to sanity and without you I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to hang on.



I don’t like the phrase “A cry for help.” I just don’t like how it sounds. When somebody says to me, “I’m thinking about suicide, I have a plan; I just need a reason not to do it.” the last thing i see is helplessness.

I think: Your depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see any good in yourself and you don’t have any hope.

But still, here you are. You’ve come to me and banged on my door and said “HEY staying alive is REALLY HARD right now. Just give me something to fight with. I don’t care if it’s a stick. Give me a stick and I can stay alive.”

How is that helpless? I think that’s incredible. You’re like a soldier trapped for years behind enemy lines, your weapon has been taken away, you’re malnourished, and you’ve caught some kind of jungle virus that’s making you hallucinate giant spiders. and you’re still just going “Give me a stick, I’m dying out there!”

“A cry for help” makes it sound like I’m supposed to take pity on you, but you don’t need my pity. This isn’t pathetic. this is the will to survive. This is how humans lived long enough to become the dominant species.

With no hope, running on nothing, you’re ready to cut through a hundred miles of hostile jungle with nothing but a stick, if that’s what it take to get to safety.

All I’m doing is handing out stick.

You’re the one staying alive.

I just hope I have one left for me.


A year ago yesterday the most wonderful man I’ve ever met took his own life. He had the biggest, most loving heart I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen someone love so much, open up their heart to anyone in need at any time. No matter what hardships he faced he always wore a smile for those around him. I’ve never seen a man love so much. He took me in when I needed it and gave me a place to stay. He always put other people first. He was the best man I’ve ever met in my life. He is the man that I wish I could be. I hope that one day I can as good of a man as he was.

I wasn’t there for the last few months of his life, but I am…was…very close to someone close to him and she sent me this song. She said that he loved this song and listened to it all the time the weeks before.

I know I wasn’t around for very long, but you took me in and I appreciate that more than anything.

You’ll always be missed.




Being happy feels more like an illusion than an actual feeling. It’s just a cover for the sadness that will hit you after all the smiles and laughs. Sure, for a few minutes, maybe hours, you’re actually smiling for the first time in days, you’re laughing for the first time in you can’t even remember how long, but when you go home and are alone…there it is again. There is no happiness, only distractions from your problems for short periods of time. Happiness is a fairy tale story our parents read to us as a child before bed. Happiness is that ladder rung that you just can’t reach. It’s right there, just one more step, but when you reach for it you slip and each time you slip you fall a little further and happiness gets a little higher on the ladder. It’s hard to imagine being happy. What does it take to really be happy? Is it an item? Money? Another person? Love?…No, it can’t be love. I’ve been in love..I still am. It’s not what I would call being happy.

I wonder what it’s like to be happy. I wonder if it’s even real or just a lie told to us as we were growing up to shield us from the brutal realities of life.

I want to know what happy feels like.