;

She was wearing all black sitting in an old 90’s Toyota with the windows rolled down on a hill looking towards the city she grew up in. She cried with pain for how her life turned out, not how she pictured it when she was young. The words her brother in law had spoken to her earlier, do us a favor and kill yourself, rang in her ears. They echoed but instead of loosing momentum the words only got louder, and they only dug deeper. She knew that everyone else knew she wasn’t ok. But they didn’t do anything to save her. So she sent her good bye text messages to the people she loved and she thought loved her as minutes later she ran a blade down her thin innocent wrists.


Coming home from a long day at work all she wanted to do was take some pain pills and go to sleep. Her diabetes was not doing well for the day and her feet were swollen. The new dog one of her daughters had just gotten her peed all over the place, but before she could scream at it she noticed her phone was full of missed calls. She called back one of her daughters, the one who had called her more than fifteen times. She lay in bed as her daughter explained how her husband got in a fight with her sister, or in her case her daughters, and he had said mean things to her knowing she was bipolar. Immediately she arose not worried about how tired she was. Not concerned about the piss all over the floor. She just got in her truck and searched for her daughter. This wasn’t the first time this daughter ran off this way. She worked along side her daughter at the same job every day, but today she didn’t see her. That should have warned her. Her daughter left the house as soon as she turned eighteen, she moved in with her older sister. An older sister that let her husband bad mouth her bipolar sister who had a history of depression. She searched everywhere and after hours of looking she almost lost it when she received a good bye message from the same daughter she’d been looking for.


Patrolling the streets isn’t an easy job. Specially at night. He gets an unusual call from dispatch saying there is a suicidal young adult near his location. He has nothing else to do so he checks it out. As soon as he gets there he calls for an ambulance back up. He runs to his patrol car and grabs his first aid kit which he would usually only use if he was wounded, but a life was at risk. The paramedics take over once they arrive. Soon she’s rushed to the hospital.


He’s been dating her for a while now. They met at work, the same place where her mother works yet she does not know they are dating. So arriving at the hospital were he was informed that his girlfriend was taken after an attempted suicide and seeing her mother there was extremely awkward. He knew her bipolar history but he never got to witness an episode while they dated. He was shocked and didn’t know what to do or say to console the mother right after finding out they were dating.


Now they all sat in the waiting room for hours. Waiting for her to wake up. But she didn’t. So they had nothing else to do but to go back to work awaiting a call that she had risen from the darkness she had fallen into. Their coworkers asked what was going on they seemed anxious and always kept checking their phones, but they only told the few they trusted.

I was one of them and this is their story.

If you know someone who is going through something similar to this, please don’t hesitate to help. I took this story very personal. I’ve been through this. I’ve seen the effect it does on a person. And all I wished for was help. A hug, or even a sincere conversation with someone to make me feel like I mattered.

If you’re the one going through this please remember that people love you but sometimes they don’t know how to show it or don’t even know how. You are important. You matter. And remember, one day that feeling will pass and you will feel so much better than you do now.

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Not For You, Not For Them, But For Me

Two weeks ago, I made an elaborate plan to take my life. This is my story.

Never in my life have I felt so low. Yes, considering all things I had thought about it many many times before. Had I ever acted upon it? No. This time it was different. This time, I was way to close.

It has taken me two weeks to come to terms with everything and finally write about it. Not for you, not for them, but for me. I need to let it out. Let my brain know that even if I don’t know you, at least you have known what I’ve been through.

My life has always been stressful. But these past couple of weeks of been the hurricane to the normal storms I was having.

With my mom’s reconstruction surgery coming soon, work problems, religion, and my best friend suddenly turning his back towards me, I saw no other option at that point.

I was tired. I was humiliated. I was worried. I was scared. All my options had all run out, or so I thought. So what would you do standing in a cliff when your heart is the one screaming no but your brain shouts louder walk.

I cried. Cried so hard there were no more tears my eyes were able to give. So hard that my lungs did more work in my life than they have ever done while running. Face red, cheeks sore, throat horse, I fell asleep.

My indecisiveness finally came in handy. The day I awoke I felt better about everything. Like I had gotten a second chance. Nothing changed. What changed was the way I viewed them.

My friend came to apologize. I forgave him on the spot. We all need forgiveness. We should not be walking around this life with extra baggage when we already have so much to carry.

I won’t say things will get better for anyone. Because, honestly, sometimes they don’t. All I can say is what can get better, is the way you view them.

Dating And Dying

So in the hopes of getting my love life back on the road I downloaded two apps. I know, not the ideal way of looking for love but what else is there to do? Clubs, eww. Bars, do people still do that? Just randomly? This ain’t no fucking movie.

I made my bio really bubbly and full of joy and humor. At least I thought it was funny.

Here’s what I wrote. ⬆️

I thought I was going to get a lot of messages but I think people are more superficial than interested in what I have to say. It’s a sad world we live in. On both apps I managed to actually keep in touch with 2 guys. They seem pretty normal and actually ask questions to get to know me and participate in a conversation.

Buuuuut, there is a third guy on one of the apps that’s really shady. Don’t get me wrong he’s like the total dream guy. He’s a bit older than me like…10 years, but, but, but, he’s really handsome has a good job and according to him he has an Olympic size pool. LOL

We talked all day and he seems pretty normal. He uses a lot of emojis for someone in his thirties. He invited me to his house this Saturday and I don’t know if I should go. One of my friends said I shouldn’t. She said I might die or get killed. I told her she’s way to dramatic. But she might be true.

He seems pretty cool. I added him on Snapchat just to see if he was actually who he said he was and he was. Although he sends old pictures like not through Snapchat just regular took 3 or 4 weeks ago pics which I find odd. I sent him a good morning picture with a dog filter and he responded with a written good morning. I asked him for a picture he said ok, but hasn’t responded.

I want to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he’s busy, just because I saw on his story that he was on a plane ride. Probably business related.

So many questions run through my mind though. What if he’s lying? What if he’s fake? A fraud? Only wants to hookup with a innocent young boy? What if I die?

Maybe I’ll tell him we should meet out in public right? That seems like the best alternative, you know, other than death.

Bongo

          My soul is crushed. I feel broken. As if a part of me was no more. Memories consume me. Pictures bring me to tears. I knew this day would come eventually but not this soon.

          When I got home from work this evening my mom was waiting for me sitting patiently. It seemed weird to me but she acted normal. I thought she was just hot and wanted to be closer to the AC. I sat next to her and listened to how her day had gone. How some friends come to visit her and gave her advice. One of her friends had cancer. I was glad she could help my mom with her experience and how she handled everything.

          After I told my mom how my day went she told me she had news that were rather sad. She didn’t know how I was going to react. I didn’t either. I was scared nonetheless. Then she said it. My dog past away. It was like my world had sunken. Like water levels had drastically risen and were were submerged and fighting for our last breaths. I didn’t understand. I ran outside. I had to see for myself.  It must have been a lie, it had to be a lie, but it wasn’t.

          He laid there motionless. My best friend. The only one who was and had always been there for me. The one who was always eager to lend a ear. The one who was always happy to see me. The one I knew I could trust in. Ten years of my life we had spent together. Through the good and the bad.


          And now that was all gone. He was gone. No more. I was crushed. Heartbroken. I stood there trying not to cry. trying to act mature. But with everything else going on and now this? It was nearing impossible. How do you lose a friend and not cry? How do you go through one of the hardest months in your life and not cry?

          Maybe a pets death wouldn’t make some one cry like I did. But I was like a strong glass at a wedding toast that took a beating with a silver spoon. And as it continued the glass cracked ever so slightly. Each hit was less then before but the glass cracked more and more because it was becoming fragile with every hit. Until the spoon won. It was my tip of the iceberg, the last hit.

          I will miss you. You were the best friend I ever had. You came into my life when I was young and needed someone to lean on. You became my friend and then soon family, to not only me but my brother and mother. I grew up with you. I’m going to miss seeing you. I’m going to miss playing with you. I’m going to miss the way you jumped up and down when you heard the bag of dog food. I’m going to miss when I would go away for a couple of hours and returned to your warm and happy trot. I’m going to miss coming home and you being the first thing I saw.


          I’m sorry we didn’t get to have more time with each other. I’m sorry I didn’t treat you better. Sorry I didn’t spoil you more. Sorry I didn’t give you more of my love. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the best life. I’m sorry life was this short for you. I will always remember you.


In the loving memory of Bongo. You will be missed, rest in peace in doggy heaven.

My Story

             I have been putting a lot of thought into whether or not I should write this. I came to the conclusion that I should. Not because it has ‘‘gotten better”, but, because I feel like I just need to get it out of me. I feel that if it comes out, even in writing, it will be out. It’s not an easy matter to talk about. And it took me quite a while to actually sit down and write about it. After I decided I would write about it, I procrastinated sitting down and actually doing. When you try to remember the past, and it’s not pretty, you can only take so much at a time. But here it is;

             I grew up in a religion where I was taught that taking ones life would result in disconnecting with God. In other words, it was like giving a back-handed slap to the face of God since he was the creator of life and was the only one who deserved to give and take of it. As a child I always wondered why someone would ever come to that terrible decision. It wouldn’t fit in my little kid brain why someone would just want to die. I heard of people killing themselves when I was young but I never fully grasped the meaning of it until I got older.

            I do now. Even though I’m writing this I can’t fully say that I am completely over self harming. I can’t say that I have no more suicidal thoughts. I have though, learned to control them.

             But how did it all start? Well, I never really knew I was different. Yes I remember buying sparkling shoes that I got made fun of because they were “girly”, but that had nothing to do with my sexuality. At least I didn’t think so. I just knew that one day I would grow up, marry, and have kids. That was so ironic seeing as I didn’t want to get married or have kids.

             Back to my religion though, I grew up in this religion where you had to live your life exactly how the Bible said you should. (Jehovah Witness). It isn’t as hard as people think it is. It’s not to bad, and maybe I would have had some great teen years if I hadn’t turned out to be fucking gay. That pretty much ruined my life. Not completely, but enough. It’s one of the main causes of my pain if I’m brutally honest. Still to this day.

             I hate when people say “it gets better.” No it fucking does not. It hasn’t for me at least. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself? But at the end of the tunnel I see no light, I see no fucking tunnel.  But then again, maybe that’s me getting ahead of my self and my “better times” have yet to come.

             Anyway, I was in and out of this religion. I would go with a passion and then I would hate it with a passion. I never really made up my mind. Not even today. Today I just go, not for me or anyone else but for my mom. It makes her happy that I’m there and that makes me happy.

             I “came to terms” with my sexually on Nov 17th of 2010. That’s the day that I said I’m Gay. Before then I had never actually said it out loud. I knew I was but I didn’t want to say it out loud. I thought maybe if I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be true. Sometimes I thought I could change being gay, but it never worked. That was the actual first time that those words came out of my mouth. In that order, “I’m gay.”

             I remember going on-line and searching ‘Gay Jehovah Witness.’ I had the impression that I was the only one in this religion in the whole world who was gay. I was wrong. After looking past many articles that threw shade and dirt at JW’s for not accepting the gays, I found an article about Tim. He was also a JW. Grew up in the same religion and his father was actually an Elder (People who are like pastors). There was an email address and I emailed him. Telling him how hard it was for me because I was gay and I was scared to come out because so many people would be disappointed, and ultimately I would be disowned felt good. Plus, at that time I had no legal status so how would I even fend for my self?

             I loved my mother too much to break her heart that way. But Tim said it was all too much for him so one day he almost took his life, well actually tried but didn’t succeed. He said he had to change his life after he tried killing himself. He couldn’t take it any longer so he left the religion. I understand his decision. But I was not yet there (still am not) and even though it was extremely hard I still was not even close to the thought of taking my life. We would email back and forth and it was encouraging to have some one to talk to who understood. Then, he stopped.

            That crushed my heart. But I guess he got bored or maybe had more important things on his mind than helping out a seventeen year old across the world he didn’t even know. I knew was getting married and was moving so maybe that’s why but still, could have said something.

            Of course being in the religion that I was in and also being gay wasn’t going to work out. So I left. I stopped going and it broke my mother’s heart. I was still the same person nothing changed. I just didn’t act any more gayer. I didn’t go to pride. I didn’t hook up with every guy in town. I just simply stopped going to church. I was the same old me.

             I don’t know what made me go back. Maybe because I never found love? Or deep down I hated myself for being gay when I knew it was wrong? Not sure. But months when I returned in the summer of 2011, my uncle and aunt asked if we wanted to spend the summer with them.  (Take in mind that they too were JW’s). My brother and I said yes of course. They lived in our home town where I grew up and it was a beautiful town, I cherished that town.

             So I went to the congregation there. While I went there, I was being pressured into dating. Who I liked would always arise in a conversation. I finally gave in and picked someone. A girl I knew since I was little.

             It’s funny at the time I felt straight. Or possibly thought I could be. I can honestly say that I thought I was, right then and there. Deep down I knew I was gay, but I was faking it all so well that I almost started to believe it myself.

             The girl that I ‘liked’ had an ex boyfriend who was tragically messed up. I think he was bipolar. (Now I think I am). He once wrote the name of a girl on his arm with scissors. That didn’t surprise us because we kind of all knew he was cutting himself. Everyone told him to stop and they got him help. I thought that was ridiculous and immature not knowing that I would be following the same footsteps.

             Summer ended and the day after I left town I told that girl I liked liked her. She said the same thing but didn’t know if I felt the same way. How cute. Wrong. We soon started dating. Long distance dating. Wasn’t that cleaver? We broke up about seven months after. I was the one to end it. I told her I “needed time.” But the truth was that I just couldn’t take it anymore. Guys still would look appealing to me. I did love her though. I don’t know in what way. But it really hurt when we stopped talking. There was something missing in me now. She was my first love.

              From there it was just a spiral of hate. My life wasn’t going too well and I had to deal with the fact that I was gay. I played the happy guy for so long until I couldn’t take it. There was so much pain. I didn’t want to feel it. I was jogging that night. In our back yard. I was so overwhelmed that I just got on the ground and started crying. I was so mad on how my life was turning out to be. The next ting I knew I was picking up a rock and sliding it along my arm. It felt as all the pain was running out of the fresh wound.  For the first time in a long time I didn’t feel pain inside, I felt it on the outside. A minor distraction fooling my brain into a better state of mind.

            I didn’t think about it. Maybe I wanted to know what it felt like? Maybe I was curious? Maybe it was the feeling of wanting to touch fire but knowing you were going to get burned anyway. It was like that feeling you get when something isn’t working so you bang it on the side to make it work, like an old static TV. I knew it was wrong but I still did it. In a way it made me feel better. Like I was in control of the pain and the pain stopped controlling me.

             After that the thought of suicide would come and go for me. I always thought of ways I could end my life but I could never go through with them because I always thought of my mom and brother. Who would look after them? Who would protect them? Who would guide them? What would they do when I was gone? What would their reactions be? These questions only added to the already huge pile of stress I had. So it was more like a game. Did I want a painless death? Or did I want to feel pain? How did I want to be found? Who would find me? I am such an over analyzer that I was even over analyzing my own suicide! How pathetic. Well, I guess that’s why I’m still here, right?

             I got in to the habit of measuring how suicidal I felt. Some days it was 25% others it was 75%. When it was high I made sure I stayed away from sharp things because it seemed that I would go deeper. And in all of my scenarios, death in a pool of blood never seemed to suit me.

             One time, and the only time, I had been at 85% I  had self harmed my wrist really noticeable. I had to work the next day and a coworker saw. Her name was Jessica. She asked me what happened. I had wristbands on. Twenty One Pilots. I said nothing and just continued working like it didn’t bother me. She didn’t ask again. A month later I quit so I never saw her. She probably still works there. Her seeing my cuts didn’t make me quit.

             I’m pretty sure a lot of people noticed. I think Eli noticed once but never really paid attention or just waved it off, not sure if jenny ever did. I think Hellen did once, on my knee. She asked what where those scrathes I just told her I played to rough with my dog. Did anyone else say anything? No.

             I haven’t self harmed for almost nine months now. That’s only because I’m getting a tattoo removed and I read that having cuts or bruises will take the body’s focus away from helping eliminate the tattoo. I get an overwhelming urge but I always see my tattoo on my arm and how much I want it gone. At first it was hard to resist. But I soon got over it little by little. Hopefully I will never go back but that feeling will always be there.

             Maybe I’m bipolar. Maybe life as made me this way. Maybe I have made me this way. I see people go through shit and still have a smile on their face. Then again I don’t know what they do when they get home. Maybe they to self harm. In different ways. Drinking, smoking, hurting others. That’s the same as self harm. Inflicting pain somewhere else so the present pain will subside, but it never does, does it?

              So, that’s pretty much it. I am almost twenty-three years old and still haven’t come to terms with almost any part of my life. It’s weird. Because when I see a girl and I really like her personality I do think, wow she would make a great wife, or, I wonder what it would be like to date her.  So maybe I’m bisexual? Pan-sexual? It doesn’t really matter. My sexuality doesn’t defined me. Plus, would I even want to date anyone knowing all the shit my life as turned into? Yeah, they would have to be some type of super human to put up with me. Plus all the world wants is sex, and I just want to be held and taken care of.

Anyway there it is. The truth, raw, candid, and straight to the point.