I know that my posts are generally quite cynical. Yes, this is because I am a huge cynic but it’s mostly because I really dislike who I am.
Okay, I am determined that this post will be… probably not happy but more constructive to the readers.

I would like to talk about something very close to home for me and for a lot of people- Suicide.

Yes, yes, I know my last post was about suicide. But this is much more constructive- remember?

What do I do if someone tells me they’re feeling suicidal?

Listen to them.

Do not think that they are joking or lying or looking for attention. Take them deadly seriously- this is someones life.

If they’re telling you then you are obviously either very important to them, or if you aren’t close at all, they might not be able to tell anyone close to them and think it would help more to tell someone who doesn’t know them well.
Ask them if their plans are immediate or if they’re thinking about it in the long run.
Don’t judge them, guilt them or get angry at them.
Seriously.
If they’re thinking about suicide then they are probably, if not definitely, feeling guilty about it themselves.
By yelling at them, or judging or guilting you are effectively making them feel quite worse. You may even make their decision final, or more solid.

I think the most important point here is listening.
Take them seriously, ask them why in a non-judgemental way.
They most likely have a lot to say, they may or may not know how to say it but listen to it all.
Let them know that they have you and that you support them.
I can’t stress this enough: Listen to them.
Do not change the subject when you’ve had enough.
This one is extra important.
I’ve had first hand experience with this- trust, it feels utterly heartbreaking when you trust someone enough to tell them and they just don’t care. It’s worse than someone caring so much that they guilt you or yell at you.

What do I do if I myself feel suicidal/ have suicidal thoughts/ am considering suicide?

Tell someone.

Anyone!

Your mother or father or sister or brother- Best friend, boyfriend, girlfriend, teacher, form tutor, doctor, therapist, anyone!

Please do not suffer in silence. Do not repress your feelings of unhappiness or depression; it can only make you feel worse.

You can even tell me if you want to, i’ll listen until my ears fall off if it will help you.

Cry.

Crying can work wonders. I’m not saying that it will change your circumstances or help you in the long run.
Just spend a little bit of time crying, flushing your body and mind of toxins and bad thoughts.
Cry with someone. This can be even better!
When you tell someone, your special person, it might just come naturally.

Remember: Someone loves you.

You might not feel it sometimes, but there is always someone that loves you, that cares deeply for you, and would miss you unbearably if you were not here.
You might not even know that they love you.

Have a cwtch.

For those who aren’t Welsh- have a cuddle with someone you love.
The safety and comfort in a cuddle can be enough to tell you that it will get better, and that you are so, so, so loved.

One more thing-
If you feel unhappy, depressed or just unwell, please, please tell someone.

Go to the doctors or tell your family or friends.

I implore you to tell someone.

There are so many more things to say, lots that are very important but I just can’t fit them all in.
My main piece of advice to those who feel unhappy is to keep yourself busy. Get up every morning, shower and go to work or school or university, do the housework, make your tea, do your homework and go to bed at a reasonable time.
Keep yourself clean.
I know this sounds really strange, but one of the most common symptoms of depression is not looking after yourself- not showering or eating properly (by this I mean too little or too much), staying in bed or in your pyjamas.
It is vital that you keep going.
For the sake of you and everyone you know and love.

Anyone reading this, please link to anyone that you feel could use some friendly advice or someone who might just enjoy my blog.
I really could use a few followers.
Good evening and much love to you all.

Lights Out.

Oh my gosh.

Suicide and malice. How nice, haha.

I used to think that maybe people who committed suicide, they didn’t actually want to die; they just wanted to feel alive. To feel something. To prove to themselves, to their family, their friends and colleagues that they were mortal and able to feel something, even if it is the most extreme thing to feel.

I know that I wasn’t the only one who thought this and I know people still think this.

But I know that it is not true.

I know that people who commit suicide, people who are damn close to suicide or people who just feel depressed, these people do feel. The fact that the heart beat is still felt is a constant reminder that you are still alive, that you are human, you are mortal and no matter how much you wish that it would go away so that you could become numb once more, you know that wishes do not come true.

That is why people commit suicide.

To die.

Not to feel, because they are already feeling more than their fair share of emotions and pains. Hurt, guilt, pity, embarrassment, tension, nausea, pressure, stress, weight, misery, panic, torment, uselessness and most of all worthlessness. Feeling like they have no purpose, no reason except to listen to other people.

Unrequited attention.

Ahh fuck.

Good evening.

Today is Sunday.
And you know what Sundays are good for?
MOANING.

Remember your last “bad day”?
Where you feel that everything is going wrong.
When you look in the mirror you taunt yourself, “What is wrong with you?! God you’re so stupid! And ugly! And really really PATHETIC.”
People don’t help either, do they.
“You’re in a mood today,” yeah, I do know that, thanks. Your pointing-out-the-obvious doesn’t get me into a better mood so just go and eat your damn toast.
Bad days always start with burnt toast.

You know when you start feeling blue, and your chest aches like your lungs and stomach and heart are filled with something really heavy. Something like tar.
Your eyes don’t see people or objects, just sees right through them into your own mind and your own thoughts.

Where it’s not that you don’t want to do your work, it’s that you can’t concentrate enough to do it. Then when you can, you just think “What is the point in my doing this, i’ll only have to do more afterwards.”

What is the point?

I get asked that a lot.

“Lights Out,” They say, “What is the point to life?”.

That depends, doesn’t it, I say, do you want the truth? Or something beautiful.

I could tell you that we’re here to do our best, fall in love, have children and mould them into wonderful human beings.

Or I could tell you the truth, that we are born to be born, we procreate to insure that our species does not die out and then we die, maybe old but definitely alone.

Is there a third option?

Yes, there is in fact a third option.

That there is no point. That is the point.
There is no end point, there is nothing to work towards.
You make your own point.
The point is that there is no point!

Imagine thinking all this.

Imagine that bad day again.

And then picture what it would be like to live that bad day over and over and over for six months.
Then imagine someone tells you that you will always have a bad day, it will never get better, you will always burn your toast, yell at yourself in the mirror and your body will always be full of tar.
Imagine that you have a best friend that is so narcissistic and self absorbed that all they can talk about is bile about how other people are ugly and fat and stupid.
Imagine you can talk to only one person about this but you feel so weak and stupid that you believe you are wasting their time by telling them and so you don’t talk to anyone.

Welcome to my life.

I like big writing.

BIG WRITING.

What are “the basics”?
Last time I checked, life was never basic.
Your body is made of billions upon billions of atoms of different elements, all reacting with each other and people think that is basic?
I’d like to meet these people and tell them that maybe they’re over simplifying things.
Life is not simple. It is not something special or something unique.
If you took everyone on Earth’s bodies, and compared them you would find they were made of the same things, the same elements and the same atoms.
If you looked at their brains, you might find a slight difference.
If someone had Alzheimer’s for instance, you’d find their brain shrivelled and repulsive.

Maybe i’m being over complicated and cynical.

And so what if I am?

Are you going to tell me off?

Tell me i’m stupid, ridiculous, pathetic, or what?

I already know that, so go tell someone who needs to be told. I have no time for you and your selfish little fantasies. Thinking people actually care about your opinion. They don’t.

The basics.

My name?
What is a name?
“name n.
1. A word or words by which an entity is designated and distinguished from others”
Eureka!
I have no name. No real name at least. Blank. Clear. Clean.
Even then I have a name. My name is Lights Out.

Age?
What is age? “Oh god shut up with the philosophical nonsense and tell us your god damn age for fucks’ sake.”
I was born in the late 80s.
Work it out for yourself.

Why?

Why what…?
Why do you have an account on this pathetic website?
Because I am so sad that this is the only way to get rid of what’s inside.
Don’t you have friends or family to listen to you?
Nope. I have friends and family. But they won’t and don’t listen to me, why should they, I am an adult and should be adult enough not to be filled with such hatred.
So why inflict this on random people?
Because I don’t care about you and you don’t care about me, and I like it that way.
What would happen if you didn’t get rid of what’s inside of you?
It would eventually eat me from the inside until I go insane and put a gun to my head to paint the walls with my brain.
Okay then.
Sweet.

Anything else?
Nope.

Good, now go away and do something with this pile of gobshite.

You realise that no one will even read this except you, right?

I do indeed but on the off chance that someone will read it, i’d like to say thank you to my doctor, who didn’t believe I would kill myself.

Well he was right, obviously.

Obviously not, because it is inevitable that I will be the one to end my life.

Get over it then.

Done.