I can't not cry for this.
What would drive someone to cut their life short?



I do not need to ask that question, for the answer is a scar on my heart.

Scars on the skin seem to fade, but are more likely, perhaps, absorbed by the body.
Physically inflicted or emotionally, they are there.

One that says love.
One that says hate.
One that says hell.
Another is a box; a personal hell; a prison of this body and mind, of this community, of this society, of this race, of this world, of the nature of life, of everything to love and hate.

We can't just look at each other to see these scars, not unless they are displayed in bloody scars on our arms for the world to see. We hide them under clothes, through smiles and lies, in our hearts. We store them up and then we snap. Some of us do. Others fight internally for years and finally break through to something better. And others still wallow and submit themselves to the pain, and find simple pleasures that relieve just enough of the pressure to be able to fake a smile for another day. I bet many people do this without even realizing it.

I have another entry in my journal that I would like to accompany this post, but I don't think I am quite ready for the world to see it. When I am, I think that will be a huge step in my healing, but I don't think that day is today.

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I still have a lot more to say.

Sometimes I worry that my anger and sadness will always be more powerful than my inspiration and joy. The past few nights I have been struggling as I did for so many nights. I don't know what it is about turning off the lights and crawling into bed but its where I feel the most vulnerable to my depression, and where I always worry I am going to be consumed by it again. I stay up late to put it off because of this fear. But today, even though I am angry and sad about Cody's death and the potential/probable causes of his choice to hang himself, I also feel motivation to attack those causes in order to prevent the same in the future. And I have repeated this so many time in different ways recently, so, no need to over-explain it again. I am one who has began to break through to something else.

I was going to talk about Mount Si High School's influence on the happiness of their students, but that is another huge debate that I don't have the braincells to form a proper argument about at the moment. If you are interested at another time, I would be happy to.

Media, social standards, ect. Most, I think, would argue that this has a huge influence. Of course it varies depending on exposure, individual impressionability, ect. but it does bother me quite a bit. I went to a mall today. My sister and mom were going and I wanted to spend time with them and get out of the house a bit. Malls and I don't really get along, but I think I was decent today (didn't go around acting like a drunken vagabond this time... 10 points?). It was an experience to be in such a place. Hundreds of shops selling 10 of each of... every in-season fashion item a person could dream up, kiosks with all the accessories for iPhones that no one really needs, hurricane simulators...
wait... back up... hurricane simulators?!?! REALLY!?! Ok, that pisses me off. "Experience a phony, completely desensitized, version of what happened in New Orleans for the low price of 8 quarters!"

FUCK.
THAT.

Moving on...

The most interesting thing is the people though. I try really hard not to judge people just because they are in a mall or something like that. I'm in a mall too, maybe they were dragged there too. But seriously, I don't want to single out people and be like "what a tool." That's the opposite. Mainly I just look at the collective whole of people trying to find the sexiest thing to wear to the club, or the right perfume to match this jewelry to match this outfit to go to the opera, and I think "I really hope they don't think this is a necessity of life, or that the worst thing in the world is to not be up with the fashion trends." I really just worry for people that they have been sucked into this consumer society thinking their lives won't be complete without these things, without looking "perfect" for everyone all the time, without looking like the Hollister models. And yet, for some people, that is exactly what they think. And that is A LOT OF FUCKING PRESSURE to add to the pressure of getting perfect letter grades, to get into the perfect college, to get more important letter grades, to get a perfect job, in order to keep buying all this shit so as to maintain self-esteem, and find happiness. Its might seem like a roundabout conclusion, but too me it seems historically and presently proven that our consumer society is huge, concrete foundation of unhappiness, displeasure in oneself, constant discontent, ridicule, ect.

There are other standards, besides product consumption that add to the pressure. Rigid and discriminating religious standards, for one. Its impossible to know how many suicides are due to teenagers who feel too threatened or uncomfortable revealing their sexual orientation to the world. Or even to their own parents because they had been raised to believe that gay people are sick and wrong. I can imagine the thought process that "if my parents arent going to accept me for who I am, who will?" Also there are teens who are pressured by their parents to be athletic AND get good grades AND be model citizens AND dress a certain way AND believe certain things AND never get a chance to make decisions for themselves...

maybe they do it with grace and dignity on the outside, and maybe some are thankful to their parents about this. But certainly there are many who feel that if they fail, then they are a complete failure.

We have standards about marriage and careers and family and what a happy life is supposed to look like... and (talk about indoctrination, MSHS parents) its all a fucking joke. Divorce rates, adult suicide rates, the percentages of adults on anti-depressants?! This is what our happiness looks like.


Arg, there is so much to say and I'm getting all scatter-brained and anxious. I got so tangent-y but I just want more people to see the idiocracy of it; the malfunction and harm of this social system of expectation --of appearance, of status, of life-style; that it could drive people to inflict physical pain on themselves, or take their own lives.

These are some of my scars, bleeding for the world to see.

I don't know what Cody's were, but when he was in a coma I sent him a facebook message inviting him to share them with me when he got better...

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The happiest times of my life have been when I found people with whom I could relate on a deeper level, but I'd have never found that without making myself vulnerable and sharing some of my internal pain (that wasn't always obvious) with them. My life has many times been saved by doing this, and I like to believe I have saved others in a similar vein. My deepest scars have also been a result of this vulnerability, on top of social, academic, athletic, and other pressures. Sharing yourself so completely with another person can almost never end without some amount pain, but unlike many other causes of hurt, I find there is often an equal measure of unprecedented joy through the affirmation of self that accompanies these moments of complete honesty with another soul.


"We must be open books,
to find those nooks in ourselves
and others,
that hold the secrets to happiness and truth."

That's what I am starting to believe anyway, which is why even though these things are very personal to me, and I am afraid to share them with you, I need to do it.