I laid in bed last night look up at the black nothingness of my room. I rolled onto my stomach, closed my eyes and pressed my face into my pillow, grabbing the ends and pulling up as hard as I could. I could feel myself slipping into whatever comes next, but I stopped. I stopped for 2 reasons: 1. Pure laziness. The strenuousness of pushing into the pillow while simultaneously pulling up as hard as I could at 3 am wasn’t something I wanted to do. And 2. My rabbit, Nyx. She is my entire world and if I was gone I don’t know who would take care of her.

She’s saved me twice now.





I hate going to someone for help and telling them everything. Telling them how often I think about suicide. They tell me not to do anything and that they are there and blah blah blah, but the next day where are they? By the next day they’ve forgotten all about it, and if they haven’t yet then they don’t want to think about it. It’s only the people who have been there that are always there. The ones who don’t understand are only there briefly while they have you convinced that they understand, but once the conversation is over they immediately try to forget about the darkness that you just put on them. I know there are people out there who understand, but you have to sift through the ones who don’t to find them. Even if that means sifting away from your close friends. Now, I’m lucky and have a few close friends who understand, but I know how it feels to puke all your depression onto someone who doesn’t understand and the next time you need them or even the next day, it’s hard to see them not care as much as they pretended to the night before.

If you are having problems with suicide or depression find that one person who understands and go to them any time you need. If they truly understand then they won’t care how many times you come to them.  It helps much more than going to people who have no idea what you’re feeling.

Died with you

My best friend and I have put space between us because of all of the problems either of us are facing. It’s only been a few days and I miss her and her impact on my day. I hold her so dear to my heart because more than once was she there when all I wanted to do was end my pain, she was the one that stopped me. I tried to not blog about this but after I heard this song again I had to.

I’m sorry that it has to be like this. I hate it so much. I miss the way we’d talk. I hope everything turn out okay….for both of us..


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.



I’m sorry that it’s been so long since my last post. I haven’t internet for the past month. The last thing I remember telling you about where I am, I said I had a doctors appointment.
Well, I went to said appointment…but it wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. I thought I was going to start getting help. They asked about general information, insurance information, what I think the problem is. If I knew what the problem was, why the hell would I have been sitting in that office with you? Little, typical questions that meant nothing. I had to fill out a questionnaire before going in, all of the questions I was asked in person were asked on the questionnaire. I get that you want to see if I’m not making it up or anything, but as more questions dammit. Don’t make it so obvious to me that you are trying as little as you possibly can to help me. At the end of the appointment I’m told “Ok, we’ll call you in 3-4 weeks to see the doctor.” What?…I wanted to get help now…not in a month. It’s a good thing that my life didn’t depend on that appointment, because I’d be dead.

Well, here I am, over 4 weeks later and still no call. Not a letter in the mail. Nothing. I thought I was doing something right. I felt good about myself for seeking help. For understanding that there was a problem. Now I feel unimportant, forgotten, like my problems aren’t as serious as I thought they might be. I was given a number to call in case I was feeling suicidal again. I’ve been wanting to call it and ask if they planned on scheduling me for another time or if they were just seeing how long I could hack it.

I moved to a new house, still with my dad, step mom, brother and sister, but it’s still new. I hate this place. My neighbor has a 16 year old daughter who, I’m convinced, is a pathological liar. She is constantly searching for attention, and when she doesn’t get the attention she wants, she tries to get that person in trouble with lies. I immediately didn’t like her, but she was coming over to hang out with my younger brother (he’s 17), so I dealt with her. When she started to realize that I hated the fuck out of her, she lied to my dad and make fake messages from me. Saying that I threatened her life and that I have military experience so I could kill her. What? No one in the military who has any respect for what they are will never ever say anything like that. It was easy to dismiss though, no one believed her and she quickly proved to be a liar. She didn’t stop at one time though. She would constantly tell my dad that I said thing that I didn’t, blah blah blah. I’m 20 years old, why would I care enough to even say anything to her? It went far enough one day that she hurt herself and said that I did it. Do you know how psycho that is? I’m trying to deal with my own head, I don’t need her making my life worse and for the last several months I’ve been on edge. I just don’t understand why he is even allowed over here anymore when my dad knows everything that she does. I just don’t understand.

I’m ranting…and I digress. I’m trying to fight suicide and trying to deal with a psychotic neighbor at all times…aaaannddd trying to deal with the lack of help from the doctor that I haven’t even gotten the chance to see yet. It’s fun.

“I’m fine”


I wish I was fine, that I wasn’t me. But I am me, and i’m not fine..i’m anything but fine. Alcohol chases away the demons that tease me with a knife. The creatures that make suicide look so fucking easy…that make it look like suicide is the only path I have.

I wish you were here with me..or I with you…I need you..and you aren’t here..