Musings of an Angels Mumma 🖤

Mummy to an Angel baby! 💚 A journey of soul searching and raising a baby in the cosmic cradle


January 2017

Another Relapse 😓

I tried so hard to get better, to overcome this, to forget it all and move on. I honestly thought I was getting to the stage of recovery where I could say “I’m feeling a lot better!”But right now – I couldn’t feel any worse!

Sometimes I find myself crying in a corner wishing to go home. Then I realise I am home but I’m not happy here. I’m so fucking homesick, but I’m homesick for a place that doesn’t even exist.

Don’t you hear them? The whispers and screams? They taunt me you know. My name echoes in my head. They tell me things like I should be locked away for no one to hear. They mock me, like when I come across a blade they scream “Cut yourself”. They make everything sound so easy but at the same time make things a thousand times more complicated.  They’re always there and they never leave. They become part of you and they are purely frightening – it’s constant torture! It’s not what they say, what they tell you to do, or the fact that they never leave that’s terrifying but the most frightening part is that the voice that’s taunting you is your own!

When you’re a cutter you have a new but very warped perspective on life. You start to notice different things, like how some people wear long sleeves and pants on the hottest days, you notice red cuts when bracelets slip down a scarred arm or vacant empty eyes when they tug away if someone grabs their wrist and you just glance around the room desperately searching for scars that match your own!

Don’t you dare tell me that I’m beautiful until you’ve seen the marks etched into my skin and the ones on the inside, on my heart that I hide. Don’t you dare tell me I’m strong until you’ve seen me break down and fall apart time and time again and cry till I have no tears left.  Don’t you dare tell me that I’m a kind/caring person until I shut you out completely and push you away because I’ve convinced myself that you’ll abandon me- just like everyone else has. Don’t you dare tell me “it’s only temporary- you can get through this” until you’ve seen my inner torment – deep in my mind and demons that refuse to be silenced.

But if you have seen that other part of me – the scars,pain, insecurities and all the bitterness I hide. The voices that whisper during the day and scream during the night. The darkness that lurks. behind my false smiles and you still stay by my side  and think that I’m beautiful and strong then maybe, just maybe I’ll believe you!

But you see the difference between us is that when you sleep or wake up your nightmares end…..


A Small Collection Of My Inspirations

As a young person who has spent more than half her life suffering from an array of mental illnesses from major depressive disorder, bulimia and BPD to extensive/chronic self harm and attempted suicide. I have started to gather a collection of inspirational quotes to add to my recovery journal that I’m going to start so I thought I’d share them with all of you. I hope with this collection that I may be able to inspire someone to join me in recovery. My series of blogs tell the tale of my life more so focusing on the last ten years. 

Here goes:

“Being weak is a choice, so is being strong” – Frank Zane

You learn the most about yourself while enduring pain 

Pain is nothing compared to what it feels like to quit

Remember the guy that gave up? Neither does anyone else 

Excuses are the nails used to build the house of failure 

Don’t play the victim play the victor 

Giving up on your recovery because of a relapse is like slashing three of your car tyres because you got a flat

Once upon a time you were a young kid with big dreams that you promised you’d make real one day – don’t disappoint yourself 

“You can’t build a reputation on what you’re going to do” – Henry Ford

“Diamonds are nothing more than chunks of coal that stuck to their jobs” – Malcolm S Forbes

“If you fell down yesterday stand up today” H G Wells

Only the biggest adversities will reveal your true self 

“Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life” J K Rowling

Don’t be ashamed of your story it will inspire someone 

You never know how strong you are till being strong is the only choice you have 

I understood myself only after I destroyed myself and only in the process of fixing myself did I know who I really am

You can’t solve a problem using the same thinking that you used to created it 

From every wound there is a scar and every scar tells a story that says I survived 

But this is my favourite and despite all of my struggles …

I will Never ever give up and I will let no one think I gave in. Once upon a time I truly believed I was put on this earth to be a role model and inspiration but in the end I just couldn’t do it. I’ve come to the realisation that depression is a prison where you are both the suffering prisoner and the cruel jailer. 

I’m learning to love the individual I’ve become because I had to fight so hard to become that person

Daddy I Will Dance Again 💃🏻 

My friends, my lifestyle, my interests and my sanity are just a few things in a very long line of things mental illness stole from me but in the process I found out something about myself, a new skill I didn’t know I had and ultimately my passion – I can dance!

I always believed my dancing replicated that of an epileptic spider 🕷 so when my father suggested and then took me to my first dance class in February 2016 I wanted to hide. “I can’t dance dad” I cried in horror as we walked into the class. I was speechless.. all these people could dance as I turned around I saw him leaving the room. I was horrified as I stepped on to the dance floor with the instructor that was looking after me. 

He asked me if I was alright. My knees felt like they’dcollapse under  me as they began to shake. Wondering if I was making a mistake and whether or not to run straight back through the doors I came in. “I I can’t dance!” I exclaimed. He stared at me “I bet you can” and that was it .. the dancing began.

After learning the sequence for the night the instructor looked at me. A puzzled look spread across his face “I thought you said you couldn’t dance” I looked at him “I can’t” I muttered. 

That was all it took for me to be hooked. I danced every Thursday doing the beginner class, the review and the freestyle class (3-4 hour sessions) for four months. I was training to compete in the beginner comps at the end of July (2016) unfortunately due to a string of tragic events – a broken arm, appendicitis, surgery, stomach problems and chronic undiagnosable stomach problems followed by a bout of chronic depression and my mental health hitting an all time low I stopped dancing.

Today on Thursday January 12 2017 surrounded by some old and even new dancing buddies, I laced my ballet slippers and stepped out onto the dance floor for he first time in 6 months and danced my heart out all night long. It felt amazing to be able to dance again and it’s such a therapeutic thing to do. I’m re training to compete in the beginners comps in March for 2017. Nothing will stand in the way of that. My father spent months asking me whether I’d abandoned my dancing to which I spent months promising him that I would eventually.  Today I looked at him, saw the look of pride on his face (for the first time since my OD in December 2016) as I stood up, looked him in the eye and with a smile as I laced my ballet shoes “Today’s the day” I thought as I said “Daddy I will dance again”

A Battle Within Myself 

What screwed me up most in life was the picture in my head of how it was supposed to be. They say “Tomorrow will be a better day, never lose hope” but lately I’ve come to the conclusion that hope is dangerous – it can drive a man insane. The minute you think about giving up, think about why you held on for so long. But please, promise me if I can’t do it anymore let nobody think I gave in. I wrote the following poem a couple of months ago

A Battle Within Myself”

Have you ever sat up at night to let your barrier down brick by brick? I sat in the silence, the darkness and I cried too many times. I let their words destroy me and let it all ultimately defeat me, made me think I was worthless. I let the burden of their words, of my thoughts get to me. I regret it. I’ve got the scars that remind me. I regret that I let my family and friends down while drowning in pain. All because I let my anxiety and their wretchedness get me, I let it control me, the pain, the pleasure. I was merciless at their hands – it makes me  cringe. The memories so overwhelm and overtake me sometimes. Though sometimes I unwillingly go back to the feelings that cause my blood to run cold. Sometimes I reminisce and hear voices saying “I’m not good enough”  and I eventually decided I’m probably not. It wasn’t fair I began to care and realised I have fought too hard against them and ultimately lost the battle within myself.

The photo attached is of my tattoo which I got as a tribute to my best friend Michael who I’ve known since the day I was born, committed suicide two and a half years ago – it’s his butterfly 🦋Ever since his death we’ve associated the monarch butterfly as a symbol of him in spirit. This was my first tattoo (I got it in December 2015) and a month later I went under the needle again and got the word ‘Courage’ tattooed under my butterfly.  This holds a lot of significance to me now. I’ve battled through numerous mental illnesses including two suicide attempts which have been the main reason for starting writing these blogs. Physical health problems ranging from rare disease Tuberous Sclerosis Complex, appendix surgery and chronic stomach erosion.

Courage it’s also part of the military motto. I’m the daughter of an ex soldier and I spent 4 and a half years in the military cadets – aspiring to follow in my fathers footsteps. But at 16 and a half I was permanently medically disqualified for service. Depression kicked in and my life was on the downward spiral. 

So I think the word and tattoo courage is so appropriate. I may have been weak enough to cut, give up or attempt suicide but I was strong enough to survive those days because it takes more courage to suffer than it does to die. But what is courage? Courage is being scared to death but saddling up to the challenge anyway.

Dying For Perfection 

Welcome to my nightmarish reality life with BPD and BULIMIA following attempted suicide

Once upon a time there was a high achieving individual who was striving for perfection. Who binged/purged, cut themself and cried every night.  wished things would get better but they never did. The individual never got the “happy ending”, that one is me! I destroyed my body for the peace of mind I never got.

I can’t escape my thoughts, do you know what it’s like to be tortured by your own mind? Sometimes I don’t want to wake up because for so long everydays been the same and I’ve been waiting for so long for things to change. Only 5 years ago I never would’ve expected my life to have turned out like this.. but oh my god I’m so freaking sick of apologising to everyone when I’m the one collapsed on the floor with tears tumbling down my face and fighting the urge to end it all, to take my own life. 

Once you’re caught in Mia’a grasp it’s a vicious cycle, it’s a horrific place to be stuck in. It starts with something that “triggers” you, then you get the craving urges. After that you begin to binge which ultimately leads to purging to avoid the dreaded weight gain, but the binge/purge leads to feelings of shame and disgust so then you begin restricting or strict diet and exercise regimes which leads to tension and the process begins again. Though they say a flower can’t grow without a little rain, I’ve come to the conclusion that despite that theory- isn’t it also true that too much rain kills the flower?

Purging is like a drug, trust me it really isn’t nice to purge. It feels awful but it slowly becomes addictive. The illusion of safety, the idea that you can go back in time, control your body and do what no one else would dare to do. But after purging the nasty feeling consumes you – the shaking hands, light headed, dizziness, tiredness, feeling exhausted, the stench of vomit on your breath, swollen cheeks, your eyes cry involuntarily as you sit on the floor hunched over the toilet. Like I said Purging is like a drug. It makes you think you like it ,while it slowly consumes you. What you purge, purges you. You lose control, you lose yourself, you become addicted, you destroy yourself but worst of all – you don’t even notice! Until it’s too late and the damage has been done.

When I was younger and first learned about suicide I was utterly shocked. I couldn’t understand how anyone could be so tortured that they’d contemplate or even attempt to end their life. All I can say now is – isn’t it funny how fast things can change? On impulse I swallowed two bottles of benzodiazepines, I spent many nights alone cutting my arms and thighs deeper and deeper. I either binge till I purge or I starve myself, sleep for 16 hours or have insomniac nights, fall in love hard or hate with a passion. Fire words of hate – telling you I hate you or to go or be in love and begging you not to leave me. I don’t know what grey is but to tell you the truth- I never did!

Dying to be pretty became a disease, I was slowly killing my self just dying to fit in. Nowadays my recovery is just one big “I’ll try harder/I’ll try again tomorrow”. If you give up on me, I’ll give up on me too. But for now I’m not totally useless – I can always be used as  the demonstration of a bad example.

Nightmares of Lovers Past 💔


Mentions domestic violence, abuse, gang and rape!

Your eyes watch me from within my dreams. Haunting me mercilessly, melting my being. Your silhouette piercing the darkness as I close my eyes once again. I’m forced to remember the pain that’s driving me so insane. Now all the time I seem to lose control, I can’t tell reality from fantasy. Intoxicated by your lies that still wake me up in the dead of night. This so called love was lost before it begun. You, the torturer,the ghost haunting me, wounding me and torturing my broken soul. Now all I can say is hopefully my screams will wake you from your dreams.

Many years ago I was trapped in an abusive relationship. I was almost 16 and he was going on 19. I was young, I was naive and I believed that he loved me and that I could save him from this life. He was in a gang – but they abused him, threatened and beat him. He took his anger, frustration and pain out on me. He would smoke and drink excessively that he became violent – beating me black and blue, threatening to hurt or kill me/my family if I didn’t give him what he wanted (sex, money ect) or do as he asked, he would run up huge bills he couldn’t afford, rob houses/shops ect – he even raped me! Not only was he physically abusive but emotionally too – he made me feel inferior, useless and unattractive among other things. But like many victims of domestic violence I felt trapped, scared to leave or seek help. But at the same time I was convinced that he loved me and I hated the gang beatings and how they treated him. I hoped to hell someone would be a hero and save him, but watched as they all walked away.

To this day I know I’ll have nightmares forever as regrets still haunt my hollow head as I sit here and scream “who the hell gave you the right?”. I have one message for all of you who put your two cents worth in over the years – Don’t you dare tell me it’s easy to leave an abusive relationship when you’ve never been in one!  When I was with my now ex boyfriend I wrote this song for him it was pretty raw for me and expressed my emotion towards him. I was 15 when I wrote this and here it is:

He picks up a knife he just wants to end his life. Everyday is a battle causing scars the way out seems so far. Nobody knows he’s abused and scared he lives each day in total fear. Everybody seems to stare, why can’t they see that something’s wrong? Maybe it’s been going on too long. Nobody saw the wrong he’s been suffering too long.

People think he’s strong so he just plays along. Scars curl round his wrists it’s a fucking gruesome twist, it’s worse than a voodoo spell and now he’d rather go to hell. He won’t let you see him cry or scream he’s just a one man team. Who gave them the right? Cos ..

Chorus: A million tears remain unseen with all the bullshit in between. They’re treating him like shit and nobody seems to care a bit. This has made him go insane I now know he’ll never be the same. He doesn’t wanna live anymore he’s been shaken to his core. He gets beaten till he’s destroyed he’s just an innocent young boy. His world is turned to black he’s innocent, innocent *

His morbid silence is the loudest scream they like violence as a team. A burning lighter on his shaking hand and nobody even gave a damn. The flames they burn his flesh the blood stains are all fresh. He never wanted this strife now his best friend is a knife. How did he manage to fuck up his life?

Chorus *<<
won’t admit that he’s in pain he wished someone would realise it’s all a game. Among all of his tears are his deepest darkest fears. I can see the “save me” in his eyes and I can feel the pain within his cries. What gives them the right? Why do they force him to fight? They bruise his skin with shattering blows beating him senseless not even he knows. What has he done tonight to deserve those black eyes?

He became a victim to their abuse now he has no excuse when he met a tortured girl who had those kind of scars as well he then realised he wasn’t alone anymore he found a reason to keep fighting for

He stood outside her window on a dark rainy night. But he wasn’t alright the crashing gave me a fright . I had become his obsession when he put his knife in my possession because he is just 18 there’s only one place he wants to be.

We’ve seen him in a state he knows death is now a big mistake a family he will one day create. He will stand with his little boy and tell him it’s a weapon not a toy.

Weapons are not a toy you’re an innocent young boy. It’s a weapon not a toy you stupid little boy

Memories of his strife the images of the knife that almost took his life. Looking back through their dark morbid lives as memories fade into the night, behind their empty psychotic eyes.

The end*

I’m now no longer ashamed of my story, I’m hoping it will inspire others to ultimately break the silence for once upon a time I was the one that loved him even after the cheatings and the beatings! 🖤💔

Dear Daddy …. **TRIGGERING**

Pic from September 2016 

Dear Daddy

This is  a victory that a year ago seemed impossible! Today is Friday 6th of January 2017 and today marks being 3 months clean from cutting. I am so sorry for all that I’ve put you through, the stress, the worry, nights in hospital/respite, the unknown. 

I know it’s not easy for you raising a teenage girl who suffers with major depressive disorder with psychotic features, anxiety disorder, severe self harm, suicidality,bulimia nervosa and borderline personality disorder. But despite all of that you’ve loved and supported me through it, daddy I see you looking at my scars, you don’t know how to approach it but you want to know you just don’t know how to ask,  you pretend like nothing’s wrong but please understand I was in a lot of pain and I never meant to hurt you!!

Sometimes when I tell you “I’m ok” you look me in the eyes and say “I know you’re not”. Daddy you’re my hero, my inspiration and the person I want to become. I hope to make you proud one day, to continue the legacy of that young troublesome sergeant that you once were. Your life story from the lonely abandoned child, to a troubled teen, you became a soldier in your teens and served in various regiments and deployments in 15 years. Somewhere in the mix having 5 kids aged between  7 and 28 and now you’re a single father raising me and two young boys (7&9 years). 

I feel terrible for the hell I have put you through of recent months especially my   suicide attempt December 12th (2016). I’m so sorry for that, the lies, the secrecy and not letting you in as mental illness stole me from you. You could only watch helplessly as I slowly went off the rails  yet You’ve given me the greatest gift of my life- you believed in me when everyone turned away. You are my inspiration to recover and when  I have my own babies I hope I’m at least half the parent you are,  the one they’ll be inspired by, and proud of. You’re my legend and my hero , I can’t wait to begin this journey of recovery with you by my side then eventually have my own wee family  then to carry on your legacy. 

I know I’ve left so many questions regarding the attempted suicide, recurrent extensive self harm and so on unanswered and because of you I’ll recover and one day have the courage to speak out. I can see the pain in your eyes as you look at me and my scarred body and the emotional scarring on your soul. I just hope you too recover.

You think that when I took that blade to my skin I’d be in a panic, crying, screaming, hyperventilating and uncontrollably sobbing. But it’s not always like that , when I feel my skin split in two and see my life’s essence leave my body is when I feel most calm.

Thanks for always being there for me, being my number one supporter and ultimately forloving me as your daughter.

I love you so much Daddy

Your baby girl 

You cut deeper in the hopes that just maybe you can reach the darkest depths of your startled soul or run your fingers along scarred skin that was once perfect and pure. And perhaps if you break your frail bones along the way and blame it on the past you realise the pattern of self destruction ruined your life and because of that it destroyed life as you knew it but worst of all it destroyed you. Only a few of you will understand because it’s a subject many people won’t, many won’t understand how much anger, how much self hatred one must have to take a blade to themselves and tear their own skin apart.

There is two songs that are so inspirational and hold such a sentimental meaning to me and they have played a rather large part in my recovery the first one is Lullaby ~ Nickelback and the other one is The Cutters Lullaby. A dear friend showed me these songs when I was younger and began self harming and became very suicidal. I never told anyone except her and she helped me through it by playing me lots of music to express her feelings and say the words she couldn’t. Below are the lyrics to the cutters lullaby, it’s a very powerful yet true message to anyone suffering with self harm and suicidal thoughts/ideation. As a young guy left physically scarred from extensive self harm and a survivor of two attempted suicide by overdose. It really sums up the feelings I’m experiencing lately.

Cutters Lullaby

Go to sleep and close your eyes

And dream of broken butterflies
That tore their wings against a thorn

You know the pain that they’ve endured

Silver metal shine so bright

Scarlet blood that feels so right
Dream of that blood trickling down

And wake up just before you drown

The moonlight shining off your tears

As you bleed out your worst fears

So tonight when you start to cry

Whisper the cutters lullaby 

Hushabye baby you’re almost dead 

You don’t have a pulse and your pillows red

Your family hates you, yout friends let you bleed

Sleep tight with a knife, cause thats all you need

Rockabye baby, broken and scarred

You didn’t know life would be this hard

Time to end the pain you hid so well

And down you go baby 

Straight back to hell

But there was one thing I didn’t know is that one slice was all it took and my addiction took over!

“It” – A letter to myself!

I wish I could explain but I literally can’t. Have you ever had a secret that you couldn’t tell anyone? Well that’s what it’s like for me but it feels so much worse. You have no idea how tight I’m bound. – life with mental illness 

As I write this I already know it’s going to be jumbled up but it’s a combination of a bit of a bizarrely told story through a “letter” to myself from when I was in a very dark place, so friends if you’re still here please bear with me. 

Just so this letter makes a bit more sense, I spent a lot of time alone but this letter was one I found, written during a horrible time in my life. A time when my illness consumed me and I lost myself in every way possible because I was chasing a dream that would inevitably be shattered by the harsh reality that is known as life.


Death is peaceful, easy, life is harder.But Is it possible that everything is true, the fairytales and the horror stories? Is it possible that there isn’t anything sane or normal at all? And now you have abandoned me, like everyone else. Who can I talk to – I’m so lost! When you disappeared and they all left you took my soul and sanity with you. But the absence of you is everywhere I look. It’s like someone has ripped my soul out of my body.  Hey but in a way I’m glad because the pain is my only reminder that I am real, that this life is…

After a while those small cuts became big cuts and it didn’t help anymore. So you start to find other ways to destroy yourself, like never sleeping, drinking too much alcohol and sleeping around as well as letting your friends slowly drift away. You just laugh and laugh when people ask if you’re ok because after a while you know nothing can save you anyway. It’s like you’re not dead but you’re not alive either – like a ghost with a beating heart. 

Depression is not beautiful and it’s certainly not romantic. Flowers don’t grow out of scars and kisses don’t heal unwell minds. When you feel like death is the only escape, but I’m telling you there are no roses and there’s no sunlight, it’s just a cold, dark, empty pain. You just can’t ignore them and “move on”, they linger within you, poisoning parts of your mind until you breakdown and scream because you just can’t take it anymore. You just can’t ignore them, these demons you live with are always there, you’ll just never be able to escape.

Then all of a sudden I changed, I came back a completely different person. With a new mindset, a new outlook and a broken soul. I was the guy who once cared too much about everyone and everything- I no longer cared at all. All I wanted was to inspire people. I wanted someone to look at me and say “because of you, I didn’t give up” but I guess that’s not going to happen now. I’ll tell you that I don’t want to talk about it but actually I do. But I’m afraid of your reaction, I’m afraid you’ll never see me as an equal again. I don’t want to be this way, I’m lonely, I’m so lost. I wrote this poem called Insanity when I was really unwell so here goes…


The colours fading on the walls nobody hears my screams or calls, it gets kinda lonely locked in a cell though the “invisible people” listen really well. Have I introduced you to the friends in my head? They helped me out when I wished myself dead. But I’m not allowed out alone anymore,  trapped in this hell who knows how long for. I try to escape but I always get caught, my life like a sharemarket sold and brought. Chained and tortured I’ve done so much wrong, the days so short the nights too long. Will you come and visit? I’ll try not to bite feeling like I’m down in a grave as high as a kite. Everyone picks fights or ignores what I say though I try to be human in every possible way. But somehow I’m a monster scary and vile that makes everyone around me run a mile. I’m a nervous wreck, tattered and torn. I collapse on the floor defeated, is it because of how I was treated ? I’m drowning in an ocean of my tears, can anyone hear me or don’t you care?

But you know  I’m not as strong as everyone seems to think I am and wanting to be alone is very different to being lonely. I have come to realise that nobody knows the real me. Nobody knows how many nights I spent crying in my room and nobody knew. Nobody knows how many times I feel like I’ve lost hope, how many times I’ve been let down. Nobody knows just how often I’m sat on the brink of an emotional breakdown, but I don’t, for the sake of others. Nobody knows the thoughts that go through my head when I’m sad, how horrible they truly are. Nobody. Knows. Me. But at the same time I’m afraid that if you got to know me better you’ll see how broken I am and just like all the others you’ll walk away.

That’s all for now, stay strong 


Mental illness stole my education, it stole  my friends, my motivation, my dreams, my future, my life

But worst of all it stole me.

How do you get that lonely? 

Loneliness, depression, isolation, self harm and suicidality are just some emotions I’m all too familiar with. Music has saved my life but one song in particular resonates with me and the lyrics below are from my favourite song by Blaine Larsen which is called  “How Do You Get That Lonely?” I’d highly recommend listening to it and the music video is just so moving.

The song holds so much significance to me, so much so that I re wrote my own version and as I post the lyrics I will also share my version – which so happens to be based on my life and suicide attempt.

(The lyrics in bold are the original lyrics)
“How Do You Get That Lonely”

It was just another story printed on the second page

This is not your average story that makes the Facebook page

Underneath the Tiger’s football score

An experience that rocked them to the core

It said he was only eighteen, a boy about my age

She was just nineteen years old, should’ve been making memories at that age

They found him face down on his bedroom floor

Instead she lay unresponsive on the hospital floor

There’ll be services on Friday at the Lawrence Funeral Home
There was a meeting the next morning concerning placement in a residential home

Then out on Mooresville highway, they’ll lay him ‘neath a stone…

Within minutes of that meeting she was taken there by  mum…
How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad

How did I become this lonely? What drove me to do that?

To make you make the call, that havin’ no life at all

I impulsively made a choice that not having a life at all

Is better than the life that you had

Would be better than hell that I’m in

How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go

I just felt so lonely I chose to let everything go

How do you get that lonely… and nobody know?

When did I become this lonely .. and how did not one of them know?

Did his girlfriend break up with him, did he buy or steal that gun?

Was it cos her Aunty had disowned her that she started stockpiling pills?

Did he lose a fight with drugs or alcohol?

Was it a night of drugs and alcohol?

Did his Mom and Daddy forget to say I love you son?

Is it cos her daddy never said “I truly love you Hun?”

Did no one see the writing on the wall?
I’m not blamin’ anybody, we all do the best we can

Did no one notice the warning signs? I’m can’t be blaming any of them they’ve tried as hard as they can

I know hindsight’s 20/20, but I still don’t understand…

The mind of a suicidal person is something nobody understands
How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad

When did I become so angry? That I started to see red

To make you make the call, that havin’ no life at all

It’s not like I chose the road that not being alive at all

Is better than the life that you had

Would be better than the situation I’m in

How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go

I just felt so revolting and impulsively just let go

How do you get that lonely… and nobody knows

How did I attempt suicide and not of them know?

It was just another story printed on the second page

It’s one of those suicide stories that never makes the Facebook page

Underneath the Tiger’s football score…

It just shook them  to the core…

Depression and suicidality are such cruel punishments, there’s no fevers, rashes or blood tests to send people running in concern, just the slow erosion of yourself, as insidious as a lethal disease like cancer. But just like cancers it is essentially a solitary experience where your all alone fighting something that will inevitably kill you anyway, like a room in hell with only your name on its door. Yes there is a hell – believe me I’ve seen it. I’m just not me anymore. How  did I go from a happy go lucky kid to … this? So when I die don’t come to my funeral and cry – I’ve been dead inside for such a long time.

Dear everyone I love

I literally have zero motivation to save myself these days, this disease is like a cancer and it’s destroying me more than you’ll ever know and if it kills me tonight  please no I’m not scared of death, I’m ready to die

Blog at

Up ↑