You should've known better when you looked in my eyes
Teenagers wandered around schools saying they were “kinda bulimic” because they had made themselves sick one time in the tenth grade. It turned into an issue of bragging rights - ‘of course I’ve tried it, you haven’t?’ They whispered about how great it would be to go into a ward because they had seen a drama set in one.
I mean, their moods keep changing, surely they can be categorized as a sufferer of bipolar disorder - and omigosh, wouldn’t it be so great to meet a boy there, like a mysterious boy with hazel eyes?
Exasperated sighs after a teacher has dished out homework escalates into a boy casually saying that he is going to kill himself, the class giggles; gosh it’s so fun to make jokes at the expense of those who have lost the will to live. It’s even better when the whole class howled with laughter because isn’t homework a perfectly valid reason or have a chuckle about suicide?
Meanwhile the kid in the back row twiddled his fingers; a date swirls in his head. It’s four days from now.
The next day a girl pulls her sleeve up and states loudly that she chose to cut herself the previous night because her boyfriend says she wore too much makeup; isn’t it just so convenient that she filmed the heartbreaking video and posted it on social networking sites - hash tagging it with ‘our love is over and this ones for you bastard’
As a young girl self harms at 4:30 in the morning, she scrolls pays the video and pushes a little harder; her doubts that no one will ever understand why she is hurting herself are reinforced; she cries alone and huddles into a ball, it feels like the world is against her and people keep saying that she is attention seeking.
Mental illness is the furthest thing from desirable and is no means a riveting story to tell. It should not be lunchtime gossip or morning coffee talk - it is serious and needs to be spoken about with respect.
The concept of intrigue has been lost in the essence that one is only interesting if they’re mentally ill. People read stories of sadness and glorify depression - wouldn’t it be interesting to be a suicidal kid like the one from that great book. From my experience - I would have to lock in the unwavering answer of NO.
Maybe home is nothing but two arms holding you tight when you’re at your worst.
[new text message/ 3:16 am]
I just drove 16 hours. I need to see you.
[new text message/ 2:09 am]
I’m drunk and I know I told you I didn’t want this anymore. But I want it. I want you. I’m sorry.
[new text message/ 12:13 pm]
Maybe if I could kiss you one more time everything would be alright.
[new text message/ 8:07 am]
Fuck. I shouldn’t have let you go.
[new text message/ 4:02 am]
Are you up? I miss you.
[new text message/ 4:05 am]
[new text message/ 5:16 pm]
I saw something that reminded me of you and my throat caught fire.
[new text message/ 12:22 am]
I wish you were here.
[new text message/ 3:17 am]
I need you. Please call me back.