suicidal

An Angry? Borderline In 107 Words

I don’t care.  I don’t care…i don’t care

i don’t care….no, bruh, i really don’t fucking care, I don’t give a fuck, fuck off, lol, fuck you, i dont care, it doesnt matter, i’m fine, i’m a’ight, fuck me, fuck yourself,, fml, fml, i want to die, i wish i would die, i hate you, fuck you, eat shit and die, i love you so fucking much, why didn’t you come?, why don’t you love me?  what the fuck did I do to you?  You’re a fucking sociopath  I hate my life fuck i don’t care that didn’t hurt

go fuck yourself

leave me alone

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Suicide Prevention

I keep seeing so many “suicicide prevention” blog topics, I am almost about to puke.

There is but ONE prevention for suicide and that is LOVE…UNCONDITIONAL FUCKING LOVE.

Unless a person is experiencing some serious-ass, off-the-wall hypomania, or like me, experience major depression mixed with sleep deprivation or some other mind-altering substance, they’re not going to just kill themselves out-of-the-blue.

People who kill themselves have wanted to kill themselves for a long time.

It takes a lot of strength and courage to kill yourself.

I haven’t looked at the statistics but I would be willing to bet that most successful suicides were preceded by a few fails, or “cries for help”, as I like to call them.

People these days for the most part, including myself, are self-absorbed assholes and that doesn’t make it easier for a person to decide NOT blow their brains out of their head.

We ALL HAVE WEIRD ASS ISSUES, these days.  

The people who appear to not have weird ass issues are the ones whose issues are really super-weird.

It’s just part of American culture now….issues…psychiatric issues.

Sorry, feminists, I love you all very much, but there is a noticeable link between the onset of feminism, the breakdown of the family unit and now, hoards and droves of people with emotional issues stemming from childhoods consisting of one-parent households..

Don’t get me wrong, I believe evolution had us heading in that direction, anyway…

The breakdown has to start.  

Order comes from chaos.

Our society is completely fucked up.

Everyone is ranting and raving about something.

I hear all the time, <WHINY VOICE>, “life isn’t fair!”.

The fuck it’s not.

Life is VERY fair and that’s what most people don’t understand, and if you don’t understand the problem, then you can’t fix it.

Love is the answer.

Love has always been the answer.

Try it….

….try for a day to not speak about a topic you have no first information about unless you first imagine yourself in the shoes of the person you want to condemn.

If you don’t know all of the facts of their life, from birth to present, which made them who they are today…then maybe don’t talk about them in a judgmental way.

Love them, anyway, no matter what hideous thing they are, or did.

You have done some pretty fucked up ass things in your life, too.

I know I have.

Not Beautiful

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I want to be able to describe how it is feels to, literally, have no one who loves me.

I used to have two people that loved me, besides my children.  They were my grandmother and my mommy.

Mimi and Mommy are both dead.

I have no one.

NO.  I AM NOT LOOKING FOR MEN TO HIT ON ME RIGHT NOW.

In fact, that’s one of the reasons I am in the predicament I am in, as I write.  I have always been a beautiful girl.  My grandmother used to always tell me how beautiful I was.

Mimi’s room was in the back of our house growing up, because she lived with us.  She moved in with my dad, my stepmother, me and my little sister when I was in the third grade.

I can remember being in my Mimi’s room talking to her and letting her tickle my back…I always made her tickle my back and she would always do it…haha…After an hour of tickling, Mimi would say, “Sarah, my arm is really hurting”, and I would say, “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!  DON’T STOP!!!  Just use your other arm”.  Mimi would then use her other arm and tickle my back for another hour.

Since Mimi’s room was added on many years after the original construction of my parents’ A-frame, old-ass house, her room was in the back, next to the kitchen and the laundry room.  Mimi always kept her door open and I guess while my stepmother was in the kitchen “cooking dinner” (hamburger patties and white rice, and pinto beans every fucking night), she could hear me and my Mimi talking.

Every time  she heard Mimi tell me I was beautiful, my stepmother would be sure to stop me on my way out of Mimi’s room and say to me, “Sarah, you are NOT beautiful.  You are a cute girl, but you are NOT BEAUTIFUL”.

And to all those who think I am full of myself, let me say this:  I have never been able to say I AM BEAUTIFUL…until a year ago…so FUCK OFF.

Wiz Genius

As I try to hold my head up in my severe drunkenness, I will try, most diligently, to convey the epiphany which just struck me.  If I do say so, myself, it’s fucking profound as fuck.

*I hope I don’t hate my personal “no delete tomorrow” rule.

Anyway, I enjoy rap music. I always have and I always will.  My third cassette tape ever, was “Jam On Revenge”, by Newcleus.  I got that bitch in the third grade.

So, I’m sitting here, angry as fuck and so suicidal…omg, you have no idea.  Thank God, there’s no gun in my house…..

I’m listening to Wiz Khalifa’s, “When I’m Gone”, and I’m listening to the words thinking…wow…if that ain’t positive thinking…NOTHING IS.

And really, most hip-hop is…think about it.  They are all so fucking positive about the clothes, hoes, and money they gon get or already have.

Thanks, Wiz, for lifting the suicidal fog that was doing a ballet over my head.

If everyone would be as positive as Wiz, and sing the following song all day, every day…we would all arrive at Utopia.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzVqwdosqyQ