That moment when you’re so eager to write about something you feel so strongly about that a million words are begging to burst out and be written but at the same time as the pen hovers over the paper, nothing comes out- not a single word, well I’m having one such moment. I’m just unsure of how to begin this. Do I start with statistics or quotes or pictures or my own experience or someone else’s that has helped shape my own? Something compelling enough to interest you but honest still that it remains as meaningful as it should. Let me start with this:

Suspend your judgments. Suicide isn’t just about statistics, it’s about stories.


Some of you will judge this entry the same way you judge every person who committed suicide or have tried to, with extreme prejudice and I ask for the sake of this day and this discussion that you open your mind to opinions other than your own. The fault of this bunch, which I don’t find a fault at all but many will, is how we see things. You see them at eye level, for what it is. We see them from overhead, standing on a table and seeing ourselves in comparison to others, in association with things we don’t have or the person we can never be, happy.

I will not generalize the neigh sayers, they come from different backgrounds and varied beliefs, nor will I stereotype those who have had this problem. Trust me they’re not always the guy with the heavy eyeliner make up and a blade pendant secured around his neck. It’s not as plain and black and white as that. Sometimes it’s the town’s golden girl who maintains straight As and is quietly drowning in the pressure of perfection or maybe the quiet kid who sits at the back of the class who is invisible to everyone but the restroom mirror where he spends his lunch dismantling a sharpener.

I'm scared | via Tumblr

To them suicide is a way out, not selfish but reasonable. To stay in a cycle where you’re constantly unhappy and alone, feeling either like a huge disappointment or anonymous is not worth living over every single day. That thought consumes you and dulls every form of happiness most people savor. TELLING US TO GET IT TOGETHER AND DISMISSING OUR WORRIES WON’T HELP BECAUSE REALLY WHEN YOU DO THAT, YOU’RE BRUSHING US OFF. Were you even listening or were you too busy judging us and labeling our problem  non existent because it’s not cancer or ebola virus?

I am in no way advocating for suicide, not because it’s cowardly but because YOU’RE WORTH A LIFE. Trust me when I say that no matter how bleak and dark your life is right now, I need you to hang in there. YOU ARE WORTH EVERYDAY YOU FIGHT FOR. YOU WILL FIND HAPPINESS ONE DAY AND IT WILL BE EVEN MORE WORTH IT BECAUSE YOU KNOW HOW HARD YOU FOUGHT FOR IT. I’m sorry you had to in the first place but trust that your strong enough to overcome this and know that wherever you are, no matter how alone you feel, you never are. 

And to those whose made it and are now happier and better, I am so proud of you. You deserve every praise for deciding to stay and choosing to stick with it every single day since. I wish you the happiest of days, you deserve no less for the courage and strength you’ve shown. There may still be rough patches ahead but find comfort in the fact that the enemy you fought already lost a few times before and you have the upper hand because you’re stronger than all you demons.

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My friend mentioned a few days ago how pointless suicide hotlines are because if you really wanna kill yourself, why would you want someone to stop you? She has a good point actually and I’ve considered coming up with alternatives. Although I’d like to think that it’s because most of them, deep down just want a reason to stay. Here’s one:

Everyone is worth saving. YOU ARE WORTH SAVING.

So be it on #SuicideAwarenessDay or any other day of the year, if you ever feel like throwing in the towel, talk to someone. Sometimes we only need reminding of how much we’re worth. There’s no shame in that.

And to everyone else reading this post, I hope you’ll find it in your heart to be nicer, more open-minded and understanding of people whose circumstances may be far from your own. Give that shy guy beside you a chance. Talk to the girl who consciously fiddles with her shorts at gym class. Avoid stereotyping the abrasive jock loitering the hallway. Tweet someone you’ve never talked to words encouragement when she seems down and ask about her day. Get to know to know them and give them more reasons to love the lives the they have and the people that they are. A simple act of care and kindness will go a long way especially to someone who doubts he’ll ever get any.

You matter.



I realised.. IM HERE FOR YOU ♡♥♡

One morning I woke up with an unfamiliar material draped securely on my back. It was heavy and cold and it very much resembled a cloak- like in one of those old Hollywood movies. The fabric clung to me like second skin, choking, smothering and weighing me down while it slyly remains invisible to the eyes of even those staring right at me. No matter how hard I fidget, move my body like a convulsing freak, grab at it, try to tear it away from my body with all the strength my man hands could muster, it remains rigid and unrelenting. There are days when I feel the grip tightening, leaving steady marks on my skin that will remind me of how it possessed me for as long as I live.

It’s daunting to admit how much it’s affecting a full grown person with rationality and control. The fear of judgment and ridicule in society where the easiest response would be to ask if the cloak truly exists or if I made it up because I’m either crazy or in CRAZY need of attention. Either way I will be labelled a freak and avoided like a plague or talked to behind my back. To the few who care enough to consider that there MAY be a cloak, they’ll look you from head to toe and when they see no physical manifestations of a life threatening cloak. They walk away claiming that you’re lucky it won’t require surgery. At that moment, I wish it did. Maybe I’ll get more help if people can physically see the pain an invisible cloak is causing me.

You might know the cloak by its common name, depression.

its not fair how i see everyone breathing.

Yes my lovely readers, how timely right? Just as the world is  confused, bewildered and pained by Robin Williams’ death, one caused by this cloak itself, I decide to write about it. Well to be honest this entry was inspired by him. I have been struggling to write anything on this subject for years, ever since I started this blog actually, but I never had the courage, words or inspiration to even start. That changed when I was aimlessly browsing through my twitter feeds and froze on one of the trends. I think we all know which trend it was.


A thousand RTs, skimmed articles and a full blown movie marathon later, I decided I need to write something about this. Screw inhibitions and fear, depression is a real thing and it has to be talked about because more and more people are falling victim to it and very few seem to take it seriously. The most infuriating yet common reaction we get is it’ll pass or get over it. Those are the words of an ignorant person brushing off something purely because he has no clue what it is. The same words that will make the lot of us, already depressed, consider ourselves even bigger freaks than we already think.

I doesnt.

Depression, unlike physical illnesses with very visible manifestations, is often treated as a whim of some attention seeking person who is bored of his own life that’s why he needs to make up some disease that cannot be visually assessed. The truth however is depression gnaws at you from the inside, turning every thought, every memory, every experience into a black hole that sucks the life out of you while you seem completely a-okay on the outside. You feel disabled without the advantage of a parking space. In  two  very cliché words : it sucks.

so fucking true

There is no standard to depression. It varies for each one and I could spend the whole day discussing to you the many kinds but really what those going through this need from you is just one thing, your understanding.


It may sound so easy, so fundamental in fact but to truly understand someone who goes through that requires for you to suspend your prejudices and preconceived notion fed by some exaggerated movie or oblivious hearsay. We don’t all cut or binge or drink meds or listen to sad songs or plaster a frown on our faces. Often even a smile is the most believable lie one gets to tell. Funny though, almost everyone falls for it. Depression too is not to be stereotyped.

For those still trapped in their cloaks, hang in there and stay strong. Fight to be happy because you’re worth no less. Find comfort in the promise that you’re not alone and somebody on the other end of this screen understands and appreciates you.  I do care and I’ll keep fighting, I’d love for you join me. –winks-


time travel

Don’t remind me that this isn’t a sci-fi blog. I know that and I promise you guys I’m not trying to impose upon you my insane obsession with all things Star Wars. NOPE, NOT YET. *laughs nervously* A few days ago, my sister and I watched About Time starring Rachelle McAdams and  Domhnall Gleeson. It reminded me of a cliché question always asked during get-to-know-you activities, ‘What would you do if you could travel back in time?’

For some reference on time travel, here’s a video of a recent on YouTube, charlieissocoollike, explaining time travel in the coolest way only he knows how.

(This entry operates on the first kind of time travel- the Back to the Future model- where you can alter specific actions made to create a ‘better’ outcome.)

Let’s say for this entry’s sake that time travel is as common as a bus ride. Would I buy a ticket?

photo from nellanablog.blogspot.com

To be completely honest, I MIGHT.

Regret is a powerful motivation. It haunts even the most accomplished men. I only know of very few people who can whole-heartedly say they’ve had zero regrets. For the rest of us, yes including yours truly, we know how regret has the power to suffocate us in the most terrifying of nightmares our subconscious can command while it paralyzes us during the most uncomfortable times the day. That fear plus the curiosity to answer our many ‘What Ifs’ could most likely skyrocket the sales of time travel tickets if  there were any.

So yeah, as a human tendency, I might consider it but…

I believe there is never a perfect version of any moment in a man’s life, only a real one. And in reality, you will always find some flaw, something you could do better or something you shouldn’t do altogether unless you accept that the imperfection of that moment is what makes it uniquely yours. We’re wired to be insatiable and the chance to fuel our insatiability is what encumbers our ability to grow as people and appreciate life the way we chose to live it, now and at any point in the past. As if living in the past without time travel isn’t destructive enough.

It’s like what one of my mentors in writing once told me, Honey, at some point you’re gonna have to put down the pen. Trust that YOUR STORY IS WORTH READING NOT REGARDLESS BUT BECAUSE OF THE MISTAKES.

I could argue the more expected ‘there is a great design’ notion, one where your action isn’t just your own but is a part of a bigger, grander scheme that affect’s another’s result as much as your own. I’d save that for another time though. For now, I’ll leave you with something to ponder on.

If time travel is a possibility would you do it? 

perfection is boring

Huh! Got your attention right? After all, who in the right mind wouldn’t aspire for perfect but let me just get this out. I’ve been going through thousands of tweets, tumblr posts and facebook notifications in the last few days and they all harp a similar thought- it’s tiring, almost consuming trying to be perfect.

It’s frustrating because perfection is a moving target and often it’s one that others dictate. We all know the truth. There is no objective perfection because no one will agree with a specific set of standards to assess it and even if they do at one time, it changes too quickly to matter. So why do we aspire for it, to be it?

What does perfection offer that’s so appealing that we’re willing to change so much of ourselves and give so much of what usually makes us happy just to embody it?

photo from umsonho-de-garota.tumblr.com

Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to be better, wanting to please others. It’s human nature- we’re built to wanna interact with others and the best way to do that is to have them like us thus the constant pursuit of being everyone’s idea of  likable. Have you ever considered though that people who expect you to be perfect, to never commit mistakes- they too are dictated by somebody else’s idea of perfect? Those that dictate them also adhere to somebody else’s standard. In the end, perfection- especially with people- is nothing but a cycle of standards that although it wasn’t designed to, pressures us to be the best version of a non existent human being.

So here’s my take on it, you can wear yourself out trying to achieve a goal that is impossible but more importantly hollow or you can accept your unique, possibly not everybody’s idea of a perfect self. You can finally work on being the best you, no matter how eccentric and different rather than being the best somebody else. Makes sense?