*disclaimer: I am in NO way condoning school shootings.
I have been pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed, I can’t take this anymore. I’ve had enough, I’m drowning in pain, suffocating in my own mind, the tendrils of my demons wrap around my neck, I can’t breathe. I’ve called out for help so many times, I’ve broken down over and over and over and over again, and now there’s no putting me back together. Nobody hears me, I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, my throat is so sore, but they’re all deaf to my cries.
My own thoughts eat me alive, the vultures in my head pick at my decaying body while I’m still crying. Where am I? What is this shell that I’ve become? I used to smile and laugh, I used to cry, but now all that’s left is the hollow case of the person that I used to be. I look into my own eyes and there’s nothing left. There’s nothing left. I reach for the bottle of oxycodone and swallow three. I can’t even tell the difference between my darkest nightmares and my reality. My hands shake, my heart races, my head swims in agony. I grab the gun I left in front of me and just start to run.
I don’t have a destination, I’m just trying to outrun myself. The wind whips against my face, the rain beats it raw. I have nowhere to go where I can’t find myself, I’m trapped in my own damn mind. I scream out loud in the rain, rage and misery clawing at my throat until I can’t keep it in any longer. My heart runs faster than the thoughts shredding me to pieces. I open my eyes and I’m in front of my high school. This, this, this! They cut and cut and cut and cut into my awareness, they’ve made me the monster that I am. I’m so close I can see the people that ruined my life pass in the hallways. I know how I can make it better! They caused my pain, they are the real monsters, my demons incarnate.
They flood in and out of the doors, and I slip in unnoticed. I’m surrounded by myself, I’m surrounded by bad memories, I’m surrounded in a sea of faces that never cared about me. They never gave one thought about the sickness they’ve rooted deep within me. I feel under my sweatshirt for the gun I’ve hidden. I feel its weight pressed against my stomach, almost as heavy as my heart. I look into some of their eyes, begging them to stop me, pleading with them to see behind my own eyes, but none of them do. They didn’t before, they don’t now, and they never will.
The bullets are already loaded, my brain already cresting. I give them one more chance to save themselves. I stop a few people and ask them to help me, and they just shrug me off and continue down the hall. I pull out the gun and fire once into the air. Now when I look in their eyes, I see fear, I see them pleading with me. I close my eyes and fire into the crowd. I hear them scream, but they didn’t hear me, they should have heard me when I was screaming. I’m almost out of bullets, there isn’t much longer. I open my eyes and see chaos, sweet, unrivaled chaos. Blood and monsters decorate the floor and I see people coming toward me.
I can’t take this! I can’t handle it any longer. I’ve suffered for so long, I don’t want to suffer anymore. I have one bullet left. One chance for redeeming nothing. I put the gun in my mouth, close my eyes and pull the tri-
The movie, The Grizzlies, is a movie that I will never forget watching. It follows Russ Sheppard, a recently graduated White teacher from the city who takes what he thinks will be a resume-building task in Kugluktuk, a distant Canadian Indigenous people group. His students are dealing with genuine difficulties, including poverty, hunger, aggressive behavior at home, substance abuse, and homelessness. The Nunavut region is also facing an epidemic of teen suicide. Numerous characters, including teenagers, as often as possible, consume alcohol and smoke both cigarettes and pot. Sheppard falls into “White savior” territory, he wants to “fix” his Inuit students and their community, however his lack of understanding of their way of life prompts desperate results. Eventually, the story sends the message that there’s no such thing as a one-size-fits-all solution and clarifies the harm individuals can do when they attempt to push their lifestyle onto a new culture. It also celebrates teamwork and sports as a way to increase hope and self-esteem. This movie is hands-down a 10/10 and I highly recommend you give it a watch.
Serious people only! Welcome to PM
Anyone with CPTSD have the HARDEST time maintaining and keeping a intimate relationship with another or even themselves? I feel so stuck and no one understands it feels like.
अज्ञानता तथा सामाजिक कुरीतियों जैसे दहेज के कारण न जाने कितनी बेटियां आत्महत्या कर लेती हैं। हम चाहते हैं कि ऐसी गलती कोई न दोहराए। इसलिए संत रामपाल जी महाराज के सत्संग वचन सुनकर उनसे निःशुल्क जुडें और सतभक्ति से होने वाले अद्भुत लाभ प्राप्त करें।
My best friend killed himself last year and I just found out about it like 2 months ago.
Hell is the space between your ears that tell you that you’re gonna make it but also that you’re wasting your time.
Hell is suffering and believing that your pain has a purpose.
Hell is wanting to give up but still having a strand of hope in your head saying “But, what if something good happens?”
November 13, 2010 was a life changing day for me. I was 11 years old at the time and this was the day my stepdad disappeared.
He was in my life for around 4 years and in that time, he became a man I called dad. This man knew how to love so deeply it drove him crazy. The love he had for his new family was unmatched. He was not perfect, but he was my dad. He earned that title.
My last interaction with him in this world was unpleasant. I didn’t cherish the last minutes I had with him. Instead I got annoyed, caught an attitude, rolled my eyes, and then he was gone. I to this day cannot remember what we were fighting about that caused me to waste those last moments, that is how insignificant it was. He had just brought my sister and me home Subway then said he was going back into town. Even with all that was on his mind he still made sure his kids were feed. How could I have known he was never coming back?
About an hour after he left I got a text that said, “I love you and your sister very much.” I never responded…That night he never came home. I spent days calling his phone leaving voicemails begging him to come back. He was found November 17 in his car with a gun wound to the heart that was self-inflicted.
I will never forget the blood curding scream that came from within my mother when the officer told us. I will never forget him.
He had a lot of sadness from his past and very rocky relationship with my mom. He was just trying to end his pain but had no idea of the pain he caused the people who loved him. I wish I would of responded so he would of know that I loved him.
I’ve come to terms I will never fully recover from this. It will always hurt. I will always need to cry over it. I will always have the drop in my heart when I realize he won’t be there for my wedding or meet my kids. I miss him more than I can ever put into words.
But I am forever thankful for him.
I love you with all my heart, Dad.
R.I.P. Robert Everett Williams