I write about depression and suicidal thoughts.


I sat pretty waiting for some good news.

The wait started to erode my heart and my soul began to rot. 

I wasn’t so pretty anymore.

I imagined an open field to yell through.

Feel the blades of grass brush by and scream with the wind to high heaven.

But no sound will come out, silence upon silence. 

I have a secret weapon still in my arsenal.

It’s getting ready to fire. This has nothing to do with me but you. All of you.

Angry and angry, I feel. 

The fire burns deep and the hatred runs hot. 

Am I still pretty to you?

I have the stomach to die. To take my life away, don’t take my hesitation to heart, I’m ready. 

I’m just not sure when. But hopefully soon.

The fight in me is uneasy and exhausted. 

My bones ache and muscles strain. 

My enemies live within and all I can think of is, am I what’s wrong in the world?

Who will miss me once I’m gone? 

All I know is that I’m ready to give up. Give me a reason to stay.

Or, just let me go. 


Isopropyl, do thy will.

I don’t want to hear or feel anymore.

I can’t do this.

It hurts to much.

No hope.

Just waiting to tie that rope.

I’m sick and that’s making me think, that all this is truly my fault.

My friends can’t help that they are happy and beautiful. I no longer take part in my fake charade.

Paper faces and false words are no longer my comfort.

Isopropyl, take 8oz, 2 table spoons, down the hatchet.

This was never yours to begin with. 

You were never supposed to be here.

I did my duty to provide comfort to a mother and father in a foreign land, so they would be accepted and have a child born on new soil.

I can go now.

Please let me go.

If it’s not poison, a rope or a hard fall, then what?

If I have a right to live , don’t I have a right to die? 

Isopropyl, 8oz, 2 table spoons…

Do your worst and let me go.

I was…

I write about my depression and its struggles. (The Beast)

I was doing so well.

Keeping it all together, in a perfect puzzle.

Everything was starting to clear up. 

Why now? 


I ask myself that question everyday since my diagnosis. 

2007 to now.

No one actually wants to hear how you are really feeling, I’m not even sure if family or friends ever do. 

I was fine.

But, maybe this was the calm before the storm.

I haven’t slept well in the past 5 days, I’m secretly hoping that this will be the thing that kills me. 

But, probably not.

I have never been lucky. 

Down the rabbit hole I go. 

What They Don’t See

My depression is a beast. And it’s winning.

It’s what they don’t see.

The tears.

The gasping breaths.

The desire of wanting to die.

Because that’s what I want.

I want to die.

I don’t have anything to my name.

I don’t have anyone who depends on me.

I’m not even sure I have friends.

Family is non existent.

I’m alone.

No one hears me or really sees me.

I have nothing to live for.

I’m completely at the bottom.

I’m staring at the barrel and I’m ready for the lights to go out. 

I’m not really here.

I never mattered to myself or to anyone else.

It won’t be a shame or a waste.

I never belonged here. 

My days are numbered. 

And I’m very ok with that.

There’s no one to hold my hand or wipe away my tears. 

I don’t have a shoulder to lean on.

All I have is somewhere to lay my head and hopefully, fade away.

People don’t care to see you cry in the dark, drowning in your despair.

It’s what they don’t see that scares them.

So, they close their eyes and pretend it’s not there.

I wish I could do that too.

Sadly, I can’t.

It’s what they don’t see, that will be the end of me.

I did it again…

Today was supposed to me a good day. 

Today I was supposed to do something I loved and face my anxiety head on!
But as it turns out, I couldn’t. 

I felt numb all over.

Looking all around me, I have never felt so small and insignificant.

My negative thoughts spiralled all around me, until I couldn’t breathe in their whirlpool.

I was drowning.

I had to leave.
So, I did.
I regret it now.


My battle with depression.

This is my reality. At least for now. 

I’m in this rut and I feel as if I’ll never break this cycle. 

I’m hardly getting any sleep and I keep going over and over and over in my head, what I could have done differently.

My dreams have been ruined and I still don’t understand why I’m constantly trying in vain, to pick them up.

The bright side? 

I have sleeping pills.

And with them, no dreams.


Alright, so this my second attempt at a blog. 

Yeah, it’s gonna be one of those, so get out of here.

I don’t mean to be harsh but it’s the truth. I’m that kind of person that writes what they can’t say. 

I’m not saying I’m any good at this, but this is my truth. 

I’m putting it out in the world and I’m hoping in some form or another, the universe will finally forgive what misdeeds I have done in a past life. 

So this is where I will post,

  • My experiences with my mental illness.
  • Creative writing entries.
  • Uploading pictures and short clips, documenting my progress and struggles. 

I feel that this will not only do myself good, but hopefully, maybe someone will stumble upon this and know that they are  not alone. 

Whatever you are going through, remember that you are not alone. 

If I can do this, so can you. 

Document your beast.