A Plea Against Suicide

Good afternoon, readers. I hope you’re prepared for a more serious post. At work today, I was told an extremely heartbreaking story about someone’s friend who just killed herself, and no one knew she had any unhappiness in her life. I know it’s not suicide awareness month, and I know this is something that gets spread around a lot, but it really can’t be stressed enough. Please talk to someone if you’re feeling depressed, hurt, lost. Please find that one person who you can bear your soul to. It cannot only save your life but also somebody else’s.

I know it’s hard. I know you want to seem happy and perfect because that’s what social media wants. And it’s so easy to put on a mask. I know it feels good to hide behind that mask because you’re afraid to even look at yourself in the mirror because you don’t know who you are anymore. I know how much effort it takes to pretend like you have everything going right in your life, and by the end of the day, you’re so exhausted you dread the next day. And the day after that. And every day after. I know how hard it is to be completely vulnerable with someone because you’re afraid of how they’ll look at you when you’re done explaining yourself.

I know it’s hard. I know you don’t want to talk to someone because you’re afraid you’ll only burden them with your problems. Let me tell you. Out of all the people I’ve talked to in my life, there’s always been at least one person who’s never pushed me away because of my feelings. It wasn’t always the person who I thought it would be, but there is always someone. Because you’ll be more of a burden to them once you’re gone. Because they will blame themselves for your death. They’ll wonder why they couldn’t see your sorrow and torture themselves with what they could’ve done and what could’ve been.

I know you want to say it doesn’t matter because the sun will still rise, and the stars will still shine. Maybe they will. But the ones who loved you will never look at them the same way again because their eyes will be red and dry from the amount of crying they’ll never be over. I know you want to tell yourself no one cares because no one understands. When in all reality, they have no idea because you’re pushing them away so they’ll be happy. I know the demons taunt you every waking moment of your day. I know the darkness spins inviting lies to join it.

I know it’s hard. I know you think things will be better for everyone if you’re gone. But things will only be worse. Heaven may have another angel, but Earth will be without one, and we need all the angels we can get on this rock. I know it sounds easy just to rid this place of yourself. I know you think it’s convenient. But it’s not. No matter what you think, you’ll be robbing at least one person of someone they love. You’ll be robbing yourself of a chance for an amazing life where you could help someone who’s going through the exact same thing you are now.

Humans aren’t as unique as we think. We all suffer from the same type of things; we just need to reach out to someone. To anyone. Please reach out. Find that one person you know you can trust and ask them for a few minutes of their time. They will give it to you. Someone will be there. You’re not alone with your feelings and thoughts. You’re never alone.

I know it’s hard. I really do. I’ve been through the same things. I’ve been diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I’ve been on the meds. I’ve spent years crying myself to sleep every night. I’ve cut myself. I held knives close to my heart. I’ve wrapped my fingers around the handle of a gun. I’ve prepared myself to run my vehicle off the road and into a body of water. I’ve sat with a concoction of pills. I know what’s it’s like because I’ve been there.

And I didn’t magically get better. I didn’t correct myself overnight. It does take time. But I promise you, it does get better. I get to see that sun rise every morning with my own eyes. I get to see the stars shine even through the blackest night. It takes time. It takes patience and understanding with yourself. Every time I’m in a lowest of lows, I tell myself I don’t want anyone to feel the way I feel. That if anyone feels this way, all I want to do is help them. Be there for them, be a shoulder to cry on, just be a listener. Because all we need sometimes is for someone to listen. We need that reassurance we’re not alone. You’re not alone. I promise you; you’re not alone. So please.

Please find someone who you can talk to. Even if it’s just one person. Forget the masks. Forget this idea you need to portray yourself as perfect. Forget everything except yourself. Take care of yourself. Don’t let you be beaten by you. Find someone. And live.

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The Atom Bomb Song

There’s sirens in the distance
As the death bells ring
The elders are insistent
Yet the children sing

“Rejoice, rejoice
For our time has come
We’ll be saved by ashes
Never fear the A-bomb”

A ball of fire rises
Snuffing the sun out
Gas masks are the disguises
Still we hear the shouts

“Rejoice, rejoice
For our time has come
We’ll be saved by ashes
Never fear the A-bomb”

There’s throngs of people fleeing
Diving for cover
The sounds of parents grieving
Cries the lost mother

“Rejoice, rejoice
For our time has come
We’ll be saved by ashes
Never fear the A-bomb”

The mushroom cloud spreads throughout
Darkness before us
Convincing those left with doubt
They join in chorus

“Rejoice, rejoice
For our time has come
We’ll be saved by ashes
Never fear the A-bomb”

The path of destruction made
The nuke fades away
Leaving sorrow in its wake
No one saves the day

There’s survivors underground
Knowing what death means
Praying to God they’ll be found
As they sadly sing

“Lament, lament
For our time has come
We’ll be lost in ashes
Always fear the A-bomb”

Quick Update

I know it’s been some time since I last made a post. I promise to soon! The past few weeks, I’ve been helping one side of the family with house projects and moving and dealing with deaths on the other side of the family. Everything’s a bit crazy right now, so my creativity has been low. However, I’ve been trying to make an effort to keep juices flowing. Please be patient with me as I’m fighting for balance. I’ll upload as soon as I can can! Thank you.

Song of the Dead

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I love singing my boyfriend to sleep every night; he’s been so lonely since my funeral. He tosses and turns, mumbling incoherently. I try letting him sleep on his own, but my heart cannot stand seeing him so distraught. So I sing our favorite song. It soothes him into slumber. Then I can watch him in peace.

Unfortunately, I do not think he sees me. I wonder if he senses me. I’m not even sure he hears me, but I know he’s comforted. He cried the most at my funeral, save for my parents. I visited them. Though they did not respond to me as he does. I seemed to only cause them fear and aggravation. So I moved on to my second love.

For days, I wandered his home. Looking at pictures. Reminiscing. We had built ourselves the foundations of a good life. I knew I had picked a good man when I stumbled upon the ring in his room.

He still keeps it by his bedside. Often cries as he gazes upon it. He blames himself for my death, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. I can only sing him to sleep every night. My death is my my fault. My foolishness rendered me lifeless. It had been my finger that found the trigger. They debate if it was accidental or intentional.

Regardless, I serve my penance. My immortal heart shatters every day as I watch him. He trudges through each rotation of the earth as if it were a curse. And he is mine. Thus, I sing to him. After he sheds the grueling duties of the day and crawls into bed. I caress his hair, though he does not know it. I watch him struggle to get comfortable. Listen to his barely audible cries. And then I sing our favorite song as he drifts into a horrible dreamland. Night after endless, isolating night.

The Profile of Love

Are you smitten
Completely fittin’
The profile of love
Cheeks are blushed
With blood rushed
The profile of love
Mind is racing
Body shaking
The profile of love
With knuckles white
And stomach tight
The profile of love
Grasping the knife
Desiring life
The profile of love
Stabbing until dead
Licking the blood
The profile of love
Sucking in breath
Tasting death
The profile of love
Hiding the carcass
Acting suspicious
The profile of a murderer

Bones of Saints

A long forgotten marker
From a less memorable time
Weathered by sun and storm
Stone covered in lichen
The symbol barely visible
None know of the secrets beneath
A labyrinth tomb kept away
Hidden from prying eyes
Safe from hands of theft
Though no riches lie below
Only the broken remains of souls
Yellowed bones with chips and marks
Lifeless forms etched with runes
Their story never to be told
Of the day the world collectively bled
Of the day ancient evil awoke
Water and sky became crimson
And no mortal dared stopping it
None except a courageous few
They gathered from around the globe
Uniting as brothers under a common banner
It took the lives of every one
To send the evil asunder
A mutual defeat of both sides
Darkness dragging the men underground
So their legend could never live on
So their names could never be praised
To this day no one can fathom
What transpired so long ago
But the earth will always remember
What was done to save it
That’s why if forever preserves
These deserving bones of saints

Crooked (Flash Fiction)

I had always been told that the Devil smiles with a crooked grin. It seemed to be more of a warning than a statement. But I usually passed it on as some superstitious mumbo-jumbo. If the Devil would ever appear to me, I was certain I didn’t need to identify him by a grin. I mean, the Devil does have his generic, assumed looks. A grin wouldn’t be the only thing that would make him known.

But the Devil didn’t reveal himself to me with his presumed appearance. He didn’t have red skin. Nor did he have horns or a spaded tail. He didn’t even have a pitchfork. No, he made himself known as a well-dressed man sporting a sharp suit, striped tie. And…a smile made of a crooked grin.

He came to me not too long after I found out my grandmother had been diagnosed with an incurable disease. I prayed to any and every being that she would be spared. That a miracle would happen. My grandmother and I had forever been close. She raised me, after all. On that fateful night, I was devastated, vulnerable. Walking down the dark and dreary streets to our apartment.

It was then that the Devil approached. Pushed himself off the wall of a building. Flashing that infamous grin I had been forewarned about. But I was too lost in my sorrows to notice. “It’s a rather nice night, isn’t it?” he asked with a suave tone.

I immediately stoned my expression. Being a blonde, I was used to such encounters. Especially when the sun went down. “I’m not selling my body. I have more respect for myself than that. Buzz off before I call the cops.”

“I don’t want your body, Amy.” He stepped forward. I could’ve sworn I saw smoke dance in his dark eyes. “I want your soul.”

My lips curled in disgust. “I mean it, creep. Get back.” Then I blanked. “How do you know my name?”

He chuckled in a manner I did not care for. “Oh, I know all about you. Your father was never a presence in your life. Your mother died while you were a baby. Now, your grandmother lies in a hospital bed, terminally ill. And you’ve cried out numerous times that you will do anything to save her.” His tongue ran over teeth that suddenly seemed to be turned to points. “Will you? Will you really do anything to save her?”

I took a couple steps back. My unease about this man ever increasing. There was something about him that was not right, and I had a feeling it was something more than him just being a creep. “Wha-what do you want?”

“I’ve already told you. Your soul. Yours for hers. You’ll still get to live with her, of course. But, when you die, your soul is mine. Which shouldn’t be that big of a deal, anyway. I’ve heard a lot of you mortals claim your souls don’t go anywhere once you die. So what’s the risk, huh?”

“You–” I cut myself off, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms. This man was a lunatic, thinking he could collect people’s souls. It wasn’t like humans had supernatural powers or anything. I almost flipped out when he stepped even closer. Eyes widening, I waved my arms in a spiral motion in attempt to seem as crazy as him. “You know what, fine. If that’s what it takes for you to leave me in peace, fine. Yes, I agree to your stupid soul thing. Now get the heck away from me.”

But he didn’t leave. Nope. Instead, he smiled with that crooked grin. Approached me even closer. Both of his whole eyes swirled to black, and he transformed into a thick cloud of black fog. Which then swallowed me whole.