I’m sorry you’re gone. I miss you. I don’t even know who you are but I miss you. I really do.
It hurts my heart that you made that final, hard decision to end your life. I’m not judging you. I hope you are resting in peace. But I miss you.
I’m angry. I’m angry at myself for not doing enough. I wish you had reached out. I wish I had known you. I wish you weren’t gone.
I’m angry at us — society — for driving you to this decision. I’m angry at our health care system…
Back in 2015, I visited my homeland of the Philippines for the first time in almost a decade since moving to America. During the month I was there, I had the opportunity to go visit Tokyo, Japan. It was a cheap trip from Manila to Tokyo and my mom thought why not. I thought she had bought tickets for both of us but it turns out it was just for me.
At first, I was a bit apprehensive. I didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, I would be alone in a country I’ve always wanted to visit. And…
NOTE NOTE NOTE I am not a mental health expert but just a dumb dumb that suffers from Bipolar II disorder that has actively thought of suicide for years but if you are in a crisis please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1–800–273–8255) or the Crisis Text Line (text HOME to 741–741). The fact that you clicked on this article means you want to live. Please, I want you to live.
So, you’re thinking about killing yourself? …
Hi, hello, fellow Medium writers! It is, I, the one and only Ram Reyes, back at you again with some incoherent writing.
I’ve told myself that I need to cut the negative self-talk but I can’t help but be a little bit because I am still very unsure about my writing. But this post will be more of an update post on what’s been going on with myself and what I plan to do on here.
I currently cannot sleep and I just took two (2) melatonin pills, so this might be very scattered. But what isn’t with me?
If you are having suicidal thoughts, please reach out to someone or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1–800–273–8255. This is based on Roland Topor’s “100 Good Reasons to Kill Myself Right Now”
I’m commemorating this day, July 3, 2018. This isn’t really a celebration of Independence Day’s Eve — although that should be a thing. I’m celebrating today because I felt… okay!
As someone who is suffering from depression and anxiety, it might as well be a national holiday for me.
I woke up around 10 am. Got myself a cup of coffee, took my Zoloft and started doing my usual morning ritual — which consisted recently of piecing together a puzzle of Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam.” I made great progress today with the puzzle and completed the middle part. …
Exhausted. I felt very exhausted after the grueling 24+ hour trip from Los Angeles to Manila, Philippines. My mom and I actually had to stop in Taiwan for about nine hours for a connecting flight. I’ve never slept in those airport seats before but it was a very uncomfortable nine hours.
But finally we landed in Manila and stepped outside to smell that fresh Philippine air I haven’t smelt in eight years. It was that familiar humid aroma — a mix of heat, sweat and pollution — that I still clearly remember. My mom had arranged for an old college…
To Whom It May Concern (everyone):
You may or may not know me. You may be in frequent contact with me. You may have just stumbled upon this post. You may have known about or of me. You may have just met me or I might not have even met you yet! But however you found this letter, I have a message for you: We will hurt each other… Eventually.
Okay, let me preface that I will not (hopefully) never hurt you physically ever. That’s not the kind of hurt I’m talking about. I’m talking about hurting you emotionally…
My worst time is the summer. That’s usually not something people say but I hate it. I often say my seasonal depression always comes during the summer. Over the years, summer went from being an idyllic time of rest from the prison which was school to a paralyzing culmination of over-thinking and wasting away.
Also, it’s too fucking hot.
I don’t really know when summer started to suck. Maybe it’s always sucked and I just haven’t noticed until recently. …
I really did not want to write this. I did not want to write this because it seemed very opportunistic after two celebrity suicides, Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain.
But if I didn’t talk, I would still continue the stigma of mental illness. I would be part of the problem.
Something really bothered me with the media coverage. It’s all the talk about suicide prevention. That’s not the answer. The people who don’t suffer from mental illnesses don’t understand the everyday struggle.
I don’t like that wording, “suicide prevention.” Because once you do it, it’s all over. It’s not like…
Hello! Usually write about whatever I feel like. I don’t know really. Photographer/Journalist/Writer/Chaotic Neutral/Gemini. Constantly wrong and learning