Warning: This is my own personal opinion. Said opinion will most likely piss all of you off, but quite honestly have you ever seen me give a backwards fuck whether or not people like my opinions? Read on at your own risk.
(Beware, slight possibility of trigger.)
Imagine having a friend who taught you a great deal about your favorite music. Who taught you how to deal with anxiety, depression, poverty, among other things. Imagine having a friend who would sit with you over night in his car because you needed someone. Imagine having a friend who you’d pick up in an instant so he had someone to talk to. Imagine having a friend that was perfectly content sitting in the garage, singing old Social D songs with you instead of going to the bars. Imagine that.
Now imagine finding out he killed himself.
Imagine not truly believing it. It doesn’t hit you until you go to the wake, and even then it doesn’t hit right away. You see everyone there, two hundred plus cars, winding down the street. It seems like a party, but no one is smiling. It still hasn’t hit. You walk through and say your hellos and walk up. Look. It’s the casket. It’s closed. He hung himself. Not fit for an open casket. His leather his hanging there. His wife and kid couldn’t handle it and went home. His sister hugs you, his mother cries on you. It hits.
The kid who beat up 4 guys for you because they mistreated you. Gone.
The kid who taught you how to hawk your hair higher than 6 inches. Gone.
The kid who took you to underground coffee houses. Gone.
The kid who slept in your car, and lent you his for the same. Gone.
The kid who had a wife, grew up to be a great father. Gone.
Gone. Dead. By his own doing.
Suicide doesn’t just hurt you. It hurts your family. It hurts your kid, wife, husband, friends, co-workers. It hurts for a long time. Suicide is not a joke. Neither is Depression, Anxiety/Panic Disorder, or anything else. It’s real.
On that note.
Let me tell you a story. Second thought, if you don’t know it (remove yourself from my life and google it). The Boy Who Cried Wolf. The idea behind the story, is if you lie, lie multiple times, repeatedly tell the same sad story, over and over again, eventually people won’t believe you.
I have a huge problem with pity parties. Not the “Oh shit, my douche-bag-boyfriend-cheated-on-me ones, or the fuck-I-lost-my-job ones. I have a problem with the “I hate my life and would be better off dead” tirades. Okay okay, once in a while, go for it, we’ll all listen. Everyone’s life sucks at one moment in time.. but you know what? If you “would rather be dead” because your girlfriend didn’t text you back? You can go fuck yourself.
Repeated cries for attention are annoying. Repeated status updates/texts/what the hell ever saying you hate your life, no one likes you, blah blah blah piss me off. You all should know me by now, if your life sucks… make it better. Sure, bitch up a storm… but if YEARS later you’re still bitching, just shut up.
This kid on my fb has been posting crap like that for years. The smallest things he blows up and makes it the end of the world. When I first met him, I did my best to reach out to him, repeatedly. After he emotionally attacked a few of my friends, not so much. Years later I’ve finally have had enough of his “I wish I was dead crap”. You know what dude? No one cares anymore. God forbid someone doesn’t drop their life to help you/call you/go out with you, the world will not end. Christ.
Ugh. I just hate when people say things implying suicide just for attention. Threatening self-mutiltion not soo much. I have NEVER known a cutter to broadcast to the world. If you need attention, just say so, I’m not going to post “OMG what’s wrong?!” on every single status for 3 years. No. Stop. Just STFU already. Suicide is not a joke. Talking about it is not the way to get attention. Just fucking stop.