Why Suicide Is Illegal

AKA, Why we can't talk about suicide.

I recently had someone report one of my posts on Facebook because I mentioned I was depressed and wanted to kill myself. Sounds like the right thing to do, right? WRONG.

In case you missed what I posted here earlier, feel free to wade through the Google crap blogger on here and find the article where I wrote about my horrendous experience with the mental health system.

Since I have now been reported and Google and Facebook is now watching my every move, I may have been reported to the authorities that I'm suicidal and have to wait for the cops on my doorstep to take me away and lock me up forever--thus negating any free-will or life that I could've had. Sounds like death doesn't it?

Let me tell you--it's okay to feel depressed. It's okay to feel bad. I would consider it abnormal to not feel bad in this society. If society is blaming you for feeling depressed and bad, chances are, society is abusing you. Abusers tend to blame the victims of their abuse quite often.

Is suicide bad? Sure it is. I'm not going to say it's good. Sure, the pain will end and so will your life. That's it. That's all folks! That's all suicide does. Suicide does not help you find other options (even if you have to suffer some years to find it), suicide doesn't help extend your life (as miserable as it may be), suicide also hides the problem of...Society!

See if we all killed ourselves, we can't address the problem of society--which is the core of why we're sick. Society wants to bury our problems in: pills, useless doctors, drinking, drugs, hypocrisy and other lies. If we kill ourselves, society will keep on doing this to people and will continue to abuse us victims and blame the problems on us.

Common things Society tells us: If you're not happy you're a bad person. If you're depressed it's your fault. What is wrong with you? You're sick. You're not one of us. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.

That alone is enough to make a lot of us feel bad and hopeless and depressed.

Is it up to you to change society? Maybe not. That's a lot to ask when you're already feeling like shit.

But think of yourself as a witness. The more you live, the more you see and if what you're seeing is bad--then it's pretty plain where the problems are. It's not you--it's them. You're the victim they're the abuser.

Now if you're always seeing bad stuff...that's a problem. You gotta see the good in things too. If you're always depressed...then yeah, that really sucks. I can't offer any cures or remedies. I don't have the answers. I'm not posting any stupid suicide hotline numbers or doctors etc. You can find help yourself. That's right. You have free-will. It's up to you--not doctors, cops, pills or whatever. You.

I gotta enough shit to deal with. I can't offer advice, sorry. What I can offer is true insight and REAL DISCUSSION about depression and suicide without the bullshit mumbo jumbo. We've all heard it--you need to try harder, get help, get help, get help--it's been hammered into us enough times that I don't need to repeat it.

If we don't talk about the abuse, it won't be recognized. The abuse will continue. If we all talk though, then we can share solutions or at least how we get through work all day every day for no reason than to pay our rent so we don't become homeless on the street. Cuz there's nothing worse than dealing with depression and suicide than when you're homeless and that's when people really won't help you--then they tell you you're better off dead.

You have a right to live. You're better than this. It's okay to feel bad. You're not alone.

Let's talk about it.

#suicide #depression #lifesucks #iwanttokillmyself #googlethisshit

Why Do I Write?

As a writer, this is a very important question for me. 

I have to keep asking myself this when I don’t feel like writing. Worst thing is, I have to keep answering this when everyone else keeps asking me, “Why do you write when you don’t get any money?” “What’s the point of writing if you don’t do anything with it?” 

I’m still coming up with excuses but I already know why I write. For many reasons…

• I write to express myself.

On days like these when I don’t feel like doing anything else, when I feel like life is pointless, I write to express these feelings that if voiced aloud would get me locked up in the nuthouse.

• I write to get out of the apartment

Writing in front of a computer is boring, not to mention all the distractions of: Facebook, YouTube, Webtoon (my new addiction to online Korean comics), etc.

Social interaction is nice, even if it’s just an exchange of, “I’ll have a double espresso and a gluten-free muffin, please.” “$6.50.” “Thank you.” Now finding a good café to write in is another challenge…

• I write to capture the moment

Somehow pictures don’t do it for me. I always forget the date of when I took it, where I took it and why. Writing memories down ensures I can get “the bigger picture” of events. 

• I write for personal reflection (yes, this is different from expression)

I observe people through the lens of my perception, which can be very dark and depressing. Other times, I try to understand why people live their lives the way they do. How do they get though their day (especially without drugs, alcohol or pot)? What makes them different from me? What makes me different from them? Also, because I’m curious and writing about others helps me understand them more.

• I write to imagine…

What if? The greatest question ever! I like to imagine different scenarios about me, life and other people. “What if that guy was a secret agent?” “What if I only had one day to live?” “What if I could live forever?” Though that last question is the most depressing. 

Making up stories and daydreaming is the best part of my day. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live life without any imagination.

• I write to learn

When I’m doing big research papers for school (40 pages in length at times), I learn a lot from what I’ve researched and then written about. My research in poverty gave me a bigger perspective and cemented my claim that poverty is unacceptable in this country. I miss doing research. I hardly do it anymore except when I’m taking certain classes at school. I guess I should pursue school more.

• I write to keep “active”

This is a relative term defined by: how often I post, how many readers I have, where I post/publish and if it matters or not (which it doesn’t). However, in the grand meaningless scheme of “employment” and job questions like, “What have you been doing all this time?” I find it useful to pretend I’m doing something with my life by writing about it. 

• Because I’m just no good at anything else…

Obviously, if this were my answer to the job question, I’d never have a job in my life again (which is what I’m looking at now anyways). Yes, I’m a lazy, depressed, good-for-nothing who is unprepared to deal with the real world -- but at least I can write about it! Writing gives me a small, insignificant voice. It gives me a sense of purpose I can’t find anywhere else. 

When I read an inspiring story or work of journalism that’s published, I think, “Wow! I’m glad they wrote this and I could read it!” No, I didn’t give them any money directly (or at all). Yes, I know it doesn’t make any money to write small, inspiring works that no one else cares about, but it gives me something to live for.

That is the most accurate answer I can think of as to “why I write”. Writing gives me something to live for. When I write, it’s proof that I exist. My words flow onto the paper in sloppy, black, ink and I can re-read my words later to figure out: where I was when I wrote it, when I was writing it, what I was writing about and how I was feeling then.

Writing is more truthful than speaking, which isn’t always honest due to censorship, feelings about the listener and general thoughtlessness. 

Anyone can “speak their mind” and their words are easily forgotten, but any great speech requires thoughtful examination, drafts of words on paper and re-writes. Writing requires more effort and the reward is that it’s more permanent. 

• I write for permanence

I hesitate to put my words on a blog, text message or email or anyplace where it becomes erased (like some newspapers I’ve written articles for). In time everything you say or write becomes obsolete due to the transitory nature of our lives, the medium we use to express ourselves and the fading interest that is the result of the “human condition”. 

Books are more permanent than blogs, can be copyrighted in a Congress Library and can be bought and sold on a market. But even books are subject to environmental conditions (water, fire, fading, etc.), bad market decline, lack of interest and finally, books are forgotten. 

Writing is a luxury but it’s also a necessity. Time and time again I thought about what I’d be doing if I wasn’t writing and then thought what my life would be like if I couldn’t write…

Get up in the morning, go to work (or school), go home, do chores (or homework and chores), fix dinner, sleep. Do it all over again.

Not very interesting, is it? The problem is, writing requires time: time to notice, time to digest, time to reflect, time to write about the whole process. Who has time to write when you’re working to pay the bills or going to school in order to work to pay the (additional) bills that going to school required? 

• I write for self-worth

Is what I write about really worth anything? Is it worth publishing? Is it worth working for? Is it worth going to school for? Those questions are harder to answer than the simple “why do I write?” question. 

Having self-worth is probably the most important and valuable thing for writing (and for anything else in your life). How to handle rejection without despair, how to have the energy to try again (even when you’re exhausted all the time). Having the know-how to do what you want (software to publish your own books, etc.). 

If I had self-worth it would be easier to write more and better. I’d be more successful. I’d be so successful that I’d make a lot of money, live in a nice place, meet great and important people, have a good life and make it on my own.

. . . 

What would I write about then?