6 months clean.

(Source: live-life-tipsy)

a guy should never tell a girl she’s fat

(Source: live-life-tipsy)

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please don’t kill yourself tonight. if you or anyone you know is contemplating suicide please watch this.

reblog to spread the word. you never know whose life you could save.

(Source: live-life-tipsy)

     Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself? My heart pounds like a bass drum, I can hear it, yet I feel nothing. Not even the blood running down my arm, or my veins swelling and pulsating from the immense medication in my system.

     Something in my heart goes cold.

     Like a vulture slowly picking at a dead body as it decays, my depression and caraphernelia take over. I guess you could call it a relapse. Seven years too long. There is only so much dysfunction a person can take before they snap.

     Shifting my car into park I realize I don’t remember the drive to school, as if I was on auto piolot the entire time. “Atmosphere” was blasting through the speakers. I prefer music over books because, “Songs don’t wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness.” (Rachel Yohe). There are construction workers in my head pounding on every inch of my skull simultaneously. I can barely see straight as I walk into school through the cold wind biting at my uncovered face.

     Like any other morning of my sophomore year I stumble into class to my vacant desk. I haven’t slept in 36 hours, and wont for another 24. Papers rustle and pencils scratch at the pages, making useless marks the students will never look at again. I stare at the board, then down at my desk, and back up at my teacher. His voice fills the room, but I’m not listening. My thoughts stood guard around my ears, not letting any of his information actually enter my brain. It was too overpopulated with thoughts. What is it like for her at home? I bet his parents love him. I wish I looked like her. Why did I even bother coming in today?  Startled by the bell, I knock over my water bottle. By some miracle the cap was on and nothing spilled. Gathering my two folders I head for the bathroom.

     I’m keeping my distance, stomaching nothing, and reaching for no one. I’ve never felt like this. Death and voices never filled my head. I used to feel like everything was perfectly in order, a normal life, but I guess then came a departure; first, the feeling of abandonment and then trying to cope. I’m getting worse. I’m increasingly aware I’ve been painting things in gray, increasingly alive to every cloud up in the sky, I’m afraid it’s going to rain.

     “You left your room a mess this morning. I told you not to do that anymore. You couldn’t even make your bed before you left.”

     “Hi, Mom.”

     “Why did you do so bad on your test? You studied didn’t you?”

     “Yeah, I tried really hard. I just didn’t understand it.”

     “What are we going to do with you?” My mom yelled with the look in her eye that could make me turn to stone. Just kill me. “You can’t even do the little things right.”

     Dominoes are tricky, if one falls, every one adjacent begins to crash, causing an awful chain reaction. Before you know it the intricate design and time you spend setting up the dominoes is a waste, and you must start again to set them back up. Eventually you give up and let them fall. My home is no longer fit to be called a house. This is the first big jolt shaking the table my dominoes are so fragilely placed upon. “Don’t worry, everything will be okay. I’m sure it isn’t that bad.” Everyone assures me. No, shut up. You cannot judge another’s pain. 

     Headaches become unbearable to the point when constantly popping Advil or any other medication is the only way to cope with the pain. There is no way around it; I am self-destructing. The pain never goes away, no matter what I do. There is only one way out. No one will miss me so what the hell.

     Heading straight to my room I open the dresser drawer to drive away the pain. Silver in hand, anger running down my cheeks. I don’t think I am trying to kill myself, but if I go too far I don’t care. Slowly I drag the blade across my wrist, hoping for the courage to press down. I close my eyes to forget the bleeding. I have nothing to turn to except the little white pills and the new bottle of Nyquil to make my troubles disappear. I pray to get sleep tonight. It comes with a cost.

     I wake up in a cold sweat, itching, scratching, and trying to escape the skin which barely fits me. Black eyeliner is smeared across my pillow sheets. They are saturated with hard nights, tears, hurt, and hate. I could wash them, but it would not matter. These cotton sheets could be washed a thousand times and they would never be clean.

     Picking up my phone, I send one last text to Ryan, “Thank you for everything. Let me help myself now.” He knows exactly what it means. My phone buzzes as soon as I set it down on my dresser. I ignore it. The dark cold room begins to spin as if I stepped into a fun house tunnel; however, there is no light at the end. Medicine fogs my system and I go towards the edge. Standing as close to the edge without falling over I am able to see things I could not see from the center. I’m not meant to go just yet. My phone buzzes. “Please don’t go Jillian, I love you. I don’t need an angel yet.” Then, darkness engulfs me as I let it all go. The pain, the stress, the hurt, the hate falls down my cheeks to the floor. I am afraid to fall asleep. For the first time in a long time, I want to wake up.

     By a miracle, my alarm wakes me at 6:30 A.M. Is this heaven? Is this hell? No, it is my bedroom, my bed, my dresser, and my house. I am alive. Stumbling out of bed I grip the sides of my mirror. Staring at my own reflection, I cannot believe what I have become. A stinging sensation in my wrist forces me to look down at the ‘faith?’ I had carved into my arm the morning before. Opening new eyes, I put down the knife for the last time.

     Looking out my window I see the dark silver van pull into my driveway. Still numb from the events of the previous night, I clutch an object in my fist and walk out to meet him. His eyes were red and swollen. I could tell he hasn’t slept very well since the last time that we spoke. We didn’t say anything. Extending my closed hand, he extends his. I had handed him my last razor from the night before. “thank you” Is all I can manage to get out before my eyes begin to burn as the tears beg to be let out. Ryan pulls me in close and holds me. I can barely hug him back so I step away. We stare at each other for what feels like an hour without saying anything. Words didn’t need to be said at this point. The looks in our eyes were as if we were apologizing for everything. I realize someone really does care about me.

     Whoever I was I cannot be again. I’ve always had a thing for reading books about teenage struggle. Whether it is about cutting, eating disorders, or suicide. I’ve read books about girls in mental hospitals for cutting, anorexia, bulimia, and suicide. I’ve read through their struggles while living through mine. Never would I have guessed I too, would be one of those girls in those hospitals. I can’t run away any longer and eventually, I’ll need the help they did. We live on the cusp of death thinking it will not be us, but anger is one letter short of danger.

(Source: live-life-tipsy)

telling a depressed person to be happy is like telling a cancer patient to cure themselves

or someone with a broken leg to walk themselves to the hospital.

Anonymous asked:
I want to kill myself, no one would care

You’re sitting at your desk, and you know it’s time to go. You’ve said that to yourself over a million times, but this time you know, for sure, is real. You’re tired… you’re just so very tired. You’re parents pissed you off, like school wasn’t bad enough today. You go to get the rope, or the knife, or the gun or whatever you choose to use because you’re that desperate. You’re ready. You think of it as some game… the first one dead is the one who wins. No ones home, it’s the perfect time. You’re ready. If you don’t do it, you’re gonna look down on yourself even more forever. You’re just going to hate yourself even more. No one knows, no one will know… until tomorrow. Instead of getting a paper and a pen, you get the video camera out, along with a chair. You’re standing on the chair. You decided to go with the rope… you’re gone instantly and there will be no noise. One side of the rope is tied to the top of your fan and the other is already around your neck. You’re in tears, you know it’s for real this time. You turn on the video camera and just stare at the red light blinking upon your eyes. You start to mumble out a few words. “Mom and dad, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m sorry, but I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Please don’t blame yourself, please. I love you both, and tell my siblings the same. I’ll see you all soon.” You say sorry to your best friend because you know you won’t be there for him anymore when he needs you more than ever. You say sorry to everyone you could think of… even yourself. You’re sorry for not being strong anymore. You’re sorry for breaking down. You’re sorry for putting them through so much pain in their life. You stare, once again, at the red light blinking upon your eyes. One foot is off the chair now as you begin to mouth the word goodbye. You have the remote control to turn off the camera in your hand. You clicked the off button and as soon as you see that light go off, you go off. Both feet are now off the chair… the chair is on the floor… the room is filled with silence. You’re dead. You’re gone. There is no going back. Everything is over. You don’t have to live in pain anymore… but everyone else will. What are your parents going to think? What about your little brother, or little sister? What are they going to do? You’re gone. You’re dead. There is no going back. You ended your life because the person of your dreams only thinks of you as friends. You ended your life because that one teacher was harder on you than anyone else in the class because she knows you’re the only one that is going somewhere in life. Your parents are home. They call your name telling you their home, just like they normally do when they get home…. but something’s different. You don’t answer. They get worried… you always answer. They come upstairs thinking your sleeping or showering. Your mom opens your bedroom door and screams at the top of her lungs. She instantly passes out. Now your little brother comes up after her. He screams “DADDY HELP!!!!” He runs over to you hitting your leg begging you to wake up. “WAKE UP, WAKE UP. PLEASE STOP WAKE UP”. But you don’t answer, you’re not waking up. You’re gone. You’re dead. There is no going back. Your dad comes running upstairs and all he could do is stare. He watches his baby girl swing back and forth on a rope. He sees the video camera and he sees the chair. But he doesn’t move. He’s stiff as a board. He cries…. Your dad NEVER cries. He picks up the phone and calls 911. He can barely get the words “My daughter committed suicide” out of his mouth. Your little sister stares at your dad. Your dad hangs up and your little sister jumps into your dad’s arms, crying harder than ever. She’s too young to understand completely, but she knows you’re gone. You’re dead. There is no going back. Everything is over. The cops finally arrive. They push your dad and sister out of your room and sit them in the living room. They take your body down off the ropes and lay you on the stretcher. They cover your body and out you go… just like that. You’re gone. You’re dead. There’s no going back. Nothing is the same. Two weeks have passed and your mom still stares out the window more than half of the day. Your little sister still hasn’t returned to school. Your dad is forced to go to work so he can pay all the bills for your wake and funeral. Eventually, they found to strength to go into your room. Your door hasn’t been open for months. The rope is still laying on the floor and the video camera is still sitting on the table. They don’t even dare to watch the video, it will never be seen. They slowly pick up the rope and throw it in the garbage. Chills run up their spine, your mom basically in tears. They brush off your bed, making it neat… like they used to do every morning after you went to school. Your bed was made and your room was clean. They shut the door, and it remained shut. Your school is still in distress. You thought no one cared and you thought no one noticed you. The girl that said no to being your lab partner, yeah she cuts every single night now because she thinks it’s her fault you died. The boy that tripped you by accident and didn’t say sorry, yeah he’s in suicidal therapy 5 days a week in a hospital because he feels a smile could of saved your life and he didn’t give that to you. The teacher that was hard on you that day, she quit her job because she felt she wasn’t suited to teach anymore. You’re gone. You’re dead. There’s no going back. 4 years have passed. Your little sister is now 15 years old. She started a club in her school dedicated to you. “Secrets” is what he calls it. The club is formed for kids to speak their hearts, without anyone judging them. They can say anything they want to, and talk about anything they needed to. If they were suicidal, they always had someone. That was your problem. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. You had everything bottled up inside of you. You acted as if you were the happiest kid on the planet and you had the perfect life. You played that character so well that even you started to believe it. You would be so “happy” and as soon as you layed in bed at night, the thoughts came back. A little fight between you and your parents could have set you off. But with everything inside of you bottled up for years, it hit your limits. You’re gone. You’re dead. There’s no going back. Your room will never be occupied. Your mom still cries every single night. Your dad isn’t as strong as he used to be. Your little sister will never grow up with you by her side moving her in the right direction. Your best friend is still torn up. Your school now has a club dedicated to you so teens will not make the same mistake you did. Your life was precious and you took it away in the blink of an eye. All you needed was a smile, that’s all you needed. But since you’re gone, just know people cared. People always have cared. You were just way too upset to see that. You were just too caught up in the fact that you thought no one cared… when the truth was, more people cared about you that you ever thought they would. Your town will never be the same. A girl is gone, a special girl who thought no one cared. Everyone cared. I promise you. They care, they always have cared. We loved you, and no matter what, we will still always love you.



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