Three years ago I asked for independence. And three years later I got it. I don’t need to give you 13 reasons why. I only need to give you one. That one reason is me. We decide our own fate. Not other people. Yes, they can be a major influence on how we decide but the ultimate decision lies with us. The person who chooses to end a life is the person responsible so the person to blame really should be ourselves. You may disagree but a suicidal person is never quite right in the head. That, I can justify for sure. And no matter what you do, it always comes back to haunt you. It’s almost like an addiction, a temptation. Maybe that’s why society files us away into categories. Categories they don’t want to face with. Because the truth is ugly and painful. The truth is mental illness is an issue. It’s a problem everyone can face given enough stress. It’s not something we’re born with or inherited. It’s something we develop from the ongoing pressures of our environment. And it goes hand in hand with everything that causes depression.

The solution is simple, ask for help. But solutions are never simple. Nobody likes to admit that there is something wrong with them. I know for a fact that I would never ask for help myself (so am I a hypocrite?). Well, yes and no.

I’m lucky because I think I have a varying degree of bi-polarism or whatever shitty labels society has decided to put on it. When I’m in darkness I have someone there to help me find a way out. But some people are not so lucky. Maybe their vision has been blinded for so long. Maybe they have been left in the dark for too long. But nobody knows and that’s when things really do get shitty.

Everyone has a dark place, those who think they don’t are just blessed to never have been put under the stress to find it but having a dark place doesn’t mean we should get treated like we’re “sick and diseased”. The human mind is the most precious and fragile thing in the world and as cliche as this sounds, the best medication for it is love and nurture. Those that have been feed love and nurture all their lives are obviously more resistant to dark thoughts. Some are so strong they can completely repel from even thinking about it. Some of us, are not so lucky.

Having suicidal thoughts isn’t a necessary bad thing for me but like I said, I’m an odd case. I’ve always been an odd case. It makes me bolder in terms of living a bit more because I think to myself, “If I’m going to end my life right now, I might as well do all the things I was too scared to do before I end it” and that usually pushes me forward because I have a million things on my to-do-list so suicide can wait, for now.

Having gone through these thoughts more than once, I know things do eventually get better. So I think that’s the message I’m trying to get across today. It’s not the perfect solution to whatever dark place you’re currently in. But if the solution is to end your life, stop and think about all the other things you can do before you end your life. Because once you do, that’s it. There is no going back.

If life wants to treat you like shit, then shit on it first, don’t be the weaker one. Stand up for yourself and fight. Because you are the ultimate decider of your own fate, your own life. And if all else fails, seek help. I mean, what else have you got to lose anyway? You only have one life and trust me, your life is worth saving.

– FuturePresentsPast


A Chain of Events

An estranged whimper escapes my tongue,
A street of strangers stares me down,
Some politely offer help,
I reject and deny again.
I appreciate your kindness but it could not accommodate me.
I run towards the only peace I know,
The bells sing an hour has gone.
I race up to the helping hands,
Only to be chased away by ants.
Next came the statue of peace,
Where dead soldier lies with liberty.
I can only think back to the time,
Where my friend and I sat discussing life.
Now I am here all alone,
Discussing life on my own.
An old man walks by twice,
Maybe the third time he would ask me why?
It turns my weak bladder control,
Sent me sprinting for toilet rolls.
A half hour left until it close,
A half hour for somewhere to go.

When seven came,
I went back home.
Scared and frightened,
More than before.

When nine came,
I walk in the dark,
An hour long,
All sixty minutes of luck.

When midnight came,
I wrote this down.
Hoping someday possibly one day,
I will never have to count.

Losing Self Control

The things we desired the most,
Are those that should be locked or closed.
The small accumulation of an obsession,
Can make us deny all logical reason.
It is true we can sell our soul,
For a moment of the euphoria ghost.
We lose track of day and season,
Reality is a long reach from our emotion.
Such is that of a careless addiction,
That can spiral beyond our control.
Once we make that initial decision,
We are committed to a lifelong treason.
The bad habits we make use of doing,
Becomes our own hell and undoing.
We create our own prison cell,
When we lose control of ourselves.
We convince ourselves it can be stop at anytime,
Tomorrow tomorrow we will abide.
We become the master of deception,
Associate our weakness with confusion.
The bag of lies we tell others,
Strips away our saviours.
Slowly and slowly we begin to lose sanity,
Until we cannot stop living in fantasy.
The guilt and shame eventually fades,
We are so consumed by what we cannot change.

The key to life is dramatically simple,
So why is it so unattainable?

Wave After Wave…

Waves[Wave After Wave]

She bit me this time,

Teeth marks on left thigh,

I held on so tight,

Yet she yanked me apart. 

The grey clouds outside,

Reflects my inner self. 

The uncertainty of it all,

Things I couldn’t tell. 

She tore and twists my ligaments,

And pins me in a fatal position.

She strips and tear all I own,

My clothes, My mind, My soul.

She sits there one top of me,

In all her glory.

I stare at nothing,

And I see everything.

I can’t tell anymore,

What is right and what is real. 

I want to burn all that she owns,

To show her how I feel.

But how does one oppose a wave,

Whose twice as rough as you?


Dealing With Suicide

First of all, suicide is not selfish.
If you disagree with that statement then obviously you have not been suicidal.
Secondly, if you don’t want to read any nonsense I’m about to write then I suggest you take a look at this video:

If you’re about to end your life, why not wait a little longer? This video may or may not change your view but I just want to show you that there are people like us who has been through it and made it out alive and happier. There is still hope…

Well, where do I start?
I haven’t been “officially” diagnosed with depression or some sort of mental illness but that’s because I haven’t told anyone outside of this blog and loose bits of diary entries about this.
I know I am suicidal, maybe only mildly. I don’t self-harm for several reasons but it’s mostly because I don’t want to inflict more pain on myself. I think people who self harm just wants a distraction so they can “redirect” their pain but in reality, they’re just causing more pain for themselves.
I’m going to be a bit brave here and voice my opinion; I think self harming is sort of like stress. When we stress about one thing, our minds constantly revolve and veut ally becomes clouded by that one thing only. If we begin to stress about multiple things at once, it becomes to much to handle until we eventually give up. Stressing about multiple things at once doesn’t lessen the stress for the “original” thing you were stressed about. It just overloads your system and you’ll be less likely to recover. That’s how I think of self harm. Once you start, you won’t stop, you’ll hate yourself even more and stop loathing everything around you. Eventually, you’ll spiral out of control and I don’t even want to talk about what happens after that…

Anyway, so I’m probably not depressed, I’m just suicidal. I hate saying that because it sounds so pathetic. Being suicidal is pathetic. But you know what’s even more pathetic? People who put us into these situations, those who are the cause of our pain. I hate them equally.

One thing I’m good at is my optimism. I think it’s what kept me alive all these years. As cliche as it can get, hope is always the solution.
You may ask what I’m holding onto and I could easily answer that with, “nothing” but if you ask me what I’m hoping for, I’ll probably tell you, “a future”.

Another advice I can think of is to physically lock yourself away from any objects that can harm you. I tend to lock myself in the bathroom or toilet for hours crying until rolls and rolls of toilet paper have been used and just sit or lie there blankly for even longer.

I know it’s hard to find the right people to talk to about this sort of thing because they only ones who truly know how to desk with it are the ones that have gone through it themselves.

I’m really tired now, I’ll add more to this someday.

Darkness in a Day:

I was five when you locked me outside,
Naked and crying,
I banged against the door.
Let me in, let me in,
I would sob,
On and on and on.
Until I apologised,
And said what you want,
I was left in the dark,
Cold, miserable, and alone.


I was nine when you first said goodbye,
You said you loved me no more.
You also told me to go die,
I was no longer welcome at home.


It was the night before school photo day,
My final primary year,
I remember this very clearly,
Because I was only ten.
You accused me of stealing,
Something I denied
For I was not the thief,
No no not this time.
But you didn’t believe me.
Gee, wasn’t that a surprise.


You told me to be quiet but I wouldn’t keep it down,
Because I didn’t do it,
So why won’t you hear me out?
You insisted on the truth,
And that’s all I’ve been telling you.
But it wasn’t what you wanted to hear,
You’ve already picked the truth.
I screamed until my lungs were dry,
And tears could flow no more.
No one knew and no one saw,
That I was broken, corrupted, and sore.

The bruises and cuts you left behind,
Not only scarred me physically,
It affected my mental health as well.
Every time I lock the door,
It gets worse and worse than before.
Like an unforgettable tattoo of pain,
The memories will always be engraved.

When I was eleven,
That would be year seven,
I moved to a new school,
The teacher disliked me a lot,
My intelligence was below her expectation,
But it was my favourite year of all,
Because everyone grew fond of me.
I wanted to tell them the truth,
Only when the time I did,
I was just leaving them.
I never did see them again.

I felt bad for being honest,
Because they had taught me that.
The truth is ugly and unkind,
We only hear the lies,
that our mind conceives.

I can’t do this anymore,
I’m suffocating inside and out,
I’m not strong as I thought.
You’ve been trying to ruin me,
Ever since I was born
And I just want to congratulate you,
Because you finally scored.

if you had no love for me then,

He dragged me by the hair,
And tried to steal my air.
His claws wrapped around my neck tonight,
I had prepared to die,
But I wasn’t going down without a worthy fight.
Life extinguishes from my eyes,
Every breathe passes me by.
As I whisper one last word,

A Dying Confession:

i am suicidal
I am Strong
i’m sorry i ever bothered you
I’m Moving On

i can’t feel anymore
I Am Painless
everything alive feels dead
I Am Now Free
from the emotions of life

I Want To Live
but everything is dead inside
I Want To Shine
but my light is dying

I Am My Own Fire
waiting to burn myself alive
I Will Not Die
that was a lie

sometimes, it is important to focus on the other half

– FuturePresentsPast