Asking for help is a GOOD thing.

I am seriously using EVERY SINGLE TAG I use for this, because this is important. A cry for help should not EVER be ignored, and the person ASKING for help should never be made to feel like they are somehow LESS for NEEDING that help.

If you are shot, you go to a doctor. If you break an arm or a leg, you go to the doctor. You don’t feel ashamed for needing help THEN, why should you when the pain is INSIDE you? When it is a literally LIFE THREATENING injury/illness? And yes, people, it IS life threatening. Or do you think they were just playing with the noose around their neck? Or the bullet hole in their head? Or maybe the slit wrists and the mountain of fucking pills in their stomach.

SERIOUSLY PEOPLE.

Do you know WHY so many people don’t get the help they need? Because there are dickholes out there who are mocking them. Who dismiss the cries for help as a “phase” until the person finally gets to the point where they think “why bother?”

And then those same assholes have the nerve to say “I don’t understand…what happened?”

YOU happened, asshole. You and the rest of society who have pushed them down one too many times, without even a backwards glance, much less a helping hand to get them back on their feet.

Their blood is on YOUR hands. And don’t you EVER fucking forget it.

 

**Note: To those of you who actually reach out to those who need help, this is NOT directed at you. And please, never change that part of you. We need more people like you.**

First off… no one panic, I’m not suicidal. Yes, I get down and feel like wtf is the point at times. I hate having to work when I know life is short and I’m not happy at my job and I keep thinking.. no one cares. If I died tomorrow, there’d be some poor schmuck […]

via Suicide… 4 words: Listen, I need help! — Kawanee’s Korner

[Parody] Come be with me…

Found this and decided it would be fun to share. Enjoy 😉

A parody of the poem “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love” by Christopher Marlowe.

come be with me
and be my maid,
I can pay you well,
’cause I’ve got it made.

You’ll have great benefits,
and a dental plan,
you won’t regret
working for this man.

I’ll buy you dresses
and brand new shoes,
all in lovely
shades of blue.

The finest wines,
and expensive cigars
diamonds, pearls
and fast sports cars

You’ll like working
under me
Bill Clinton
Head of the Country.

©Tiffany Crystal 1999

Worthy

prickling stings my eyes, and I’m not quite sure what to say,
you were always there beside me, now I must turn away.
it’s not what I want to do, I can barely see in front of me,
but I know the best thing for you, is for me to set you free.
So I will bear this burden, alone as I have never been before,
and I will hide the pain it causes, the tears that would fall to the floor,
I will refrain from reaching out to catch you, when you stumble towards the light,
I will stop myself from holding you, when your tears keep you awake at night,
I will turn away when you think you need me most; and be there when you need someone to blame,
when you fling the words ‘I hate you!’, I’ll shield you from my pain,
and you when you finally realize what I’ve done for you, I’ll hope you understand.
That when you’re ready, and willing to forgive, I’ll pray I’m still worthy to take your hand.

Electric Skies

Electric skies over head,
charged with conflicting notions,
charged with conflicting emotions.

Stormy seas all around,
no safe sailing tonight,
no safe port in sight.

Hopeful eyes looking up,
humble heart put forth,
hands stretched out in supplication

Begging for what is not known,
only felt,
by a humble heart..
under fire
from electric skies.

Invisible Hands

The edges of the leaves,
and the purple mountains afar,
I see them;
admire them,
while wishing on a star.

I watch the wind draw patterns in the sands,
watch the way You shape things,
with Your invisible hands.
I watch You make what artists call “masterpieces”
and know that You’re just doodling;
doodling with invisible hands.

I watch people with their families,
I see the blue in a baby’s eye,
and the golden sun in her hair..
and know that Your invisible hands were there.

I watch my mother,
hair greyed with age,
still playing and laughing
still paying You homage,
still changing with every move
of Your invisible hands.

Now, watching all this
knowing all this;
I pray only this:
Protect me, Oh Father above,
Hold me tight
Hold me with love,
Hold me forever;
in Your invisible hands.

The World and You

Looking into the mirror,
I try to see myself,
but it’s so unclear,
behind the words view,
and yours
where am I?

Trying to search myself,
to see what others see,
but the truth,
I fear…
maybe worse than I can bear,
fear becomes…
stronger than I

Hiding behind pain,
blood red stripes upon my skin.
Red over white,
where others had once been..
I do it to forget the fear,
but all they do is show,
the deeper scars within.

Scars brought on by you,
my friends try to cover,
Fears brought on by the world,
and flaws left to discover.
But all through this,
all I can do is wonder
who are you?

Who are you to judge me,
to tell me how to look?
Who are you to make me,
your twisted idea of perfect?
WHO are you?
Who am I?

You’ve made me forget,
who I am,
what I do,
What I love,
I’M NOT YOU.

lying eyes

woke up late again,
you didn’t say a word.

burnt the dinner, and myself,
you just sighed and ordered out.

forgot to pay the light bill again,
you lit a candle and said ‘it’s better this way.’

kissed you with my eyes wide open,
you forgot I can see right through you.

You smile at my every mistake,
and condemn me with the lie in your eyes.

4/28/2009

Freak Like Me

too short,
too young,
too smart,
too new

always a freak,
on the outside,
looking in…
wondering who they’re talking about…

too shy,
too loud,
too me,
too you,

always a freak,
on the outside,
looking in…
denying what I know inside…

too real,
too nice,
too good,
too everything..

always a freak,
on the outside,
looking in,
wondering why they can’t see..

too angry,
too hurt,
too sad,
too me…

who’s really the freak,
on the inside,
looking out,
wishing they had the guts?

too stubborn,
too proud,
too smart
too you…

who’s really the freak,
on the inside,
looking out,
wishing they could be me?

too bad,
so sad,
I’m everything,
you want to be…

and everything you fear.

too bad,
so sad,
You’re everything,
I would never want to be…

and nothing I could ever want.

so I ask again…

who’s really the freak,
on the inside,
looking out,
wishing they could be,
the person they really are…

wishing they could be…
a freak like me.