Where everything feels urgent
Obsession lurks, grips, shakes each choice
Feeling overwhelmed is cutting off noise,
cowering from the phone,
uncomfortably shying away from loved ones.
That anxiety you feel when you’re running late
But it never goes away
Content Warning: suicide
(*SPOILERS*)
1. I have never heard of anyone committing such an elaborate suicide plan & going through it. (The making of the tapes, map, setting someone up to carry it all out and monitor them) How I’ve felt when I have come close is that it builds up and then self destruction happens.
2. They make it seem like it was her only option. Why wouldn’t she send those tapes to the authorities and her parents? For something so thought out, why didn’t she at least think to try to ease her parents’ pain by making them a tape?
3. She blames people for her suicide, some that I feel no sympathy for and others that did such minor high school shit that I would never think warrants to be blamed for someone’s death.
4. By not alerting (or sending tapes to the school, her parents, or authorities), she left the people who did horrific things to her to be able to do it to others.
5. I’ve been blamed for my mom’s suicide when she attempted, she wrote a letter blaming me and my sister. IT FUCKED ME UP. I did do shitty things, but shitty acting out teenager things. I ended up dropping out of college, dated an emotionally abusive guy, did drugs. It was a downward spiral. So what then if she caused one of the people to spiral out and commit suicide (which one character does attempt), now she’s a reason?
6. Along the lines of #5, the show demonizes these kids. They have their own shit going on, they are still learning life, stumbling through, feeling their own peer pressure. Brains are still developing until about 25yo.
7. They don’t do enough of explaining suicide prevention, ya they skim over what to look out for, have posters up (that end up being torn down by a character), and show kids setting up events (that end up being ignored and scoffed at).
There are probably more reasons I have that I’m not remembering but I suppose those are the main ones.
How I think it should have gone: after the suicide, she submits to the authorities, the school, and her parents: the terrible things the worst did, mention the “smaller” things but not for blame but for awareness. Then shit breaks loose from it and the show explores that, not pushing so hard their opinion of each character but to let us have more freedom of our own interpretation. Maybe even show someone contemplating suicide but getting the help they need.
Manic days have me feeling
crazed.
Similar to feeling high off of caffeine
but unable to get away.
A soundless ringing in my head to do something,
do anything,
lose myself in something.
Insert a Mad Hatter reference.
As for my preference,
I think I would choose
the dips,
the lows,
the crying for who knows
and not this obsessive static in my head
my best escape is bed
I pick at my face
almost like I could get my brain to escape,
craving
tranquility
but it’s beyond my ability.
On good days like yesterday, the day starts with relief, which brings hope for an easy mental health day. Or at least as easy as it can get. I manage with little effort. I don’t feel heavy trying to last until sleep. Productivity seems possible and presents itself as so. Social interactions aren’t trying, not using up what little energy there may be.
Other times a day can start off good, manageable, hopeful; then I feel betrayed when what I thought was a sturdier foundation cracks and crumbles more and more until the end of the day I sit on debris. A sugar statue melted away easily by rain.
I’ve realized Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a great analogy of my struggle. I fight to keep from turning, from losing myself for good. My energy, all the effort it takes to resist. How can you fight from becoming something else when the effort itself is driving you towards it? I’m exhausted trying to find a cure, meanwhile I am becoming not me, losing what makes me me. If a final transformation happens, I won’t be me. I’ll be gone. So what self-destruction I inflict is to get away from myself. It means I gave in, I couldn’t fight anymore. The closer I come to understanding, the closer it seems I will become it, the more it makes sense. How easy it would be to let the rock roll back and end me? To let myself be whittled away and stop trying to rebuild? Can I be salvaged?
Do you wage war against the salty sea?
When it savagely licks your bow,
do you blame the gods you cannot see?
Yelling you will not cow.
Or when navigating waves of hits,
do you laugh when they miss?
The chaos is not a new friend.
Not even if it is your end.
Perhaps you bark a bitter laugh
hearing that others have never seen worse?
Glaring at their easy path,
Do you look downcast and mumble a curse?
Optionally, battle-weary through your trudge
you offer solidarity instead of judge
with wont for what cannot be controlled;
the treasured calm, the reckoned rolls, the inexorable tumolt
I wander my wasteland where wells of water gush forth life.
Where drops of water even offer respite.
Air of despair, dust of self despite;
escape is nowhere in sight.
Mirages appear, although in here they are real,
and are a peer
and a step
into what should be here.
I’ve harvested each moment of productivity, competency, happiness, worthiness; though my hands are weak I squeeze what nectar I can to sip on for the immediate days while I still scavenge on the way. That is me taking it day by day.
I think I’m feeling better now that I’m weaned off the medication that was affecting me terribly.
Struggling through mental illness has me treading through dread; dreading responsibilities, social interactions, guilt, fear of failure, everyday life. Sometimes it’s a slow trudge, other times I can cut through as easily as a ceramic knife through an orange.
How far are you from the darkest pit no light has illuminated? Far enough that you don’t see it, only have heard of it? See it in the distance, only as a depression where the earth slumps? Is it before you, a temptation? Before you, a rash daredevil move? Only a place you visit as a reflection pool, reflecting the closest representation of your bottom? Do you sit at it’s lip only waiting for the right time? I hope you don’t give in to whatever pull you may experience or seek its relief or try to fall into it to have it envelope you or quickly decide to jump. I hope you can find reasons or if not, scrounge up enough crumbs to keep you going until you have to again. If you can’t, I have no fault with you. I don’t blame you. But I do need to keep my separation.
Stage 