Some days I want to carry my brother’s sadness, anger and storms just so he can reconnect with good friends, not worry about the moods and feel at home in his body again. I want to see him heal from borderline and live a life with less suffering, less pain, and more hope in himself again. I want him to be happy, meaningful and strong for him to be friends with his mind again.
before I closed my eyes
my heart said, “I can’t wait
to love myself to another day.”
I woke up and felt my heart
“What happened?” I asked it gently.
“The same thing that always happens,” it replied.
“You teach me how to love myself by destroying myself
and now I’m breaking.”
When I’m tired, anxious and mentally exhausted I turn to silence, night air, poetry, and the stars. Some simple, sad things to remind me that at the end of the day, what really matters is the peace I hold within myself to be well rested for the next morning.
Fatherhood is not synonymous with workaholism, it’s simply having enough money to send your kids to school, going to the movies every weekend and keeping the refrigerator full enough to have three meals a day. Fatherhood is not a right to force your children to believe in a religion you want them to follow as they mature, it’s simply teaching your children to be respectful, honest and kind. Fatherhood is not a privilege to punish your sons for not being masculine enough, it’s simply accepting that some boys have a strong feminine side that makes them write poetry, cry over sunsets and one day turn into men with softness in their hearts. These are the things my dear father had to learn for so many years, and I can somehow see that it has slowly turned his heart into a garden—gently reminding me sometimes that he has changed.
Three things I believe are worth a thousand words: A smile, a kiss, and a picture.
She makes me feel alive, and she’s the person who encourages me to keep on living. She makes me feel loved and she’s the person who inspires me to find ways to keep on healing.
I’m afraid of turning twenty-two, and there’s a darkness inside of me that says twenty-one years of existence is enough. There’s no need to suffer further anymore, but then I’d be thinking maybe I’ll survive if I choose to remain patient because maybe there’s a miracle that’s waiting for me in the future.
In the past, I was a very futuristic person with a lot of hope and dreams and chased magic every chance that I get, but here I am now with a lot of broken memories and doubts.
It will be Christmas soon, and despite many saying that depression rises on December but paradoxically suicide rates drop as well, it’s still my favorite season of the year. And I feel like she’s my Christmas and she’s the light inside of me that I will always treasure and feel grateful for.
She’s the light that I am always seeking in times when all I can think of is to end it all.
If there’s no other way.
If there’s nothing that can make these obsessions go away.
Then nothing in this world could make me stay.
I have a date in mind, and that’s March 3, 2019, my original plan since I was in the process of writing my second poetry collection. I guess this is my fate and I have 122 days left on this blue planet of ours.
Sometimes I wonder what’s beyond this human existence. I hope it will be lovely. But there’s always an idea in the back of my head that there’s nothing. It will be like fading into an eternal sleep where I’ll never wake up.
Suicide is now my shield for suffering. I’ll focus on the things that matter to me before I depart. In the end, I’ll always be alone, and it’s better to die alone peacefully than to live alone and forever stand at the edge of insanity.
Life will be over before I know it.
I’ve hated my father since I was 14 years old for all the abuse he put me through for so many years. Since I was 14 years old I told my mother on the day he dies I will be truly happy. It’s no surprise that Jansen feels the same way when he goes through his episodes. I was the first one to become mentally ill which was also triggered by him. He choked me. Told me he liked doing it while doing it. He did the same to Jansen when he also became bipolar. And we both agreed at some point that his death will somehow be a relief to the both of us. It’s hard to fake everything with someone who has caused you severe trauma. It’s funny that he’s a Christian. By the way, I’m not a Christian. I gave it a shot until I became a nihilist when I was nineteen. It wasn’t a choice, but sometimes I think that suicidal people turn to nihilism. But that’s another story, and I think this is enough to get out of my chest. Writing is better than breaking things. Writing saved me from breaking things. But that’s also another story.