Happy Place

My window is open right now. It’s raining outside. It’s about eleven AM. There’s this squeak coming from outside, almost like a swing on a swing set rocking back and forth. The rain coming in burst, it will pour for a second—then sprinkle. The sky is grey with clouds so no sunlight is shinning. I find this all relaxing. It reminds me of my “happy place”.

When I still lived with my mother, I decorated my room. I collected Rolling Stones magazines and cut out pictures of artists, celebrities, comics or anything that I found cool. The cutouts were then used to create a collage on my walls. I hung up icicle Christmas lights around my ceiling and placed random knickknacks on my dresser and shelves. My favorite thing about my room was the color it changed when it was early in the morning. The sun just coming up and everything having a white and light blue hue. My comforter was grey, jade, and black, and the only bright colors I had were on the patchwork I had on my walls. This moment was the perfect moment, to me. I thought of this every time I needed to go to my “happy place” and I looked forward to my room every day after school.

I later tainted my “happy place”.

I was angry one day and reached for my razor. I went to work and a mess began to form. I never went to the bathroom to do my job (I thought it would be too obvious when I sat in there for an hour or more). I laid tissues on my floor and sat across from them with my hands above them. When I did it, I made sure it hurt. I went deep and wanted blood.

My mess dripped down onto the tissues. This usually did the trick, no evidence left behind. However, this one time I moved the wrong way. I motion my arm around and a few drops hit my carpet. I knew my mother or anyone else wouldn’t notice, but I would know that those stains were there. They’re still there. I go to visit my mother and see them on my rug; they’re still there.

My “happy place” reminded me of purity and calmness. There are a few spots that now say otherwise.

My new room now had no pictures, no Christmas lights, and no knickknacks. Everything is organized and neat. Boring I think. I still have that morning glow though.

Rated MA

I’ll just come straight forward and say what I need to say. There’s no use in beating around the bush.

I wanted to make a place where people could feel welcomed. I want to be here to help people who are in need and who need someone to listen and talk to. Maybe since I didn’t go all crazy bullshit on you and say how “This is a place for everyone to feel loved” I might sound a bit more legit. I mean I am here for people, but for some odd reason just coming straight out and talking like a normal human being sounds more reassuring. Don’t you think? I don’t sugar coat things and I think that’s what people need.

I’m blunt and honest and very helpful. I’m reliable and sure of myself. I want you to be sure of yourself too.

My goal is to create a new world with no depression or sadness. I want to destroy that need to hurt oneself and make someone feel good to be alive. I know I can’t stop suicide, drug abuse, self abuse or negativity. But I can try to make a sad person smile, even for a little bit.

Please remember, you're not alone. Truly, you're not.

I can't think that many people will go out of their way to find help online. I know i didn't when I was upset. I was alone and dealt with it in what I thought was a good way. Turns out it wasn't.

I practiced self abused. I'm not proud of it, I just want to relate so no one thinks I'm some kid who thinks they know it all.

I don't know about you guys but it really pissed me off when someone tried to help me. Like it really pissed me the fuck off. I didn't want someone thinking they could "fix" me. I wasn't something to be "fixed". I almost liked suffering in my misery because I thought that was all I had.

Now I’m sure you’re expecting me to go into a rant and say “You’re loved and special to someone.” You are, I’m sure you are but that’s not what I’m going to bitch about now.

Misery is not the only thing you have in life, there really is much more. Sure, you’re asking, ‘Like what?’

And I’ll tell you what drove me. I used to sit on my ass and complain all the time. I abused myself and thought about committing suicide because I didn’t want to feel that constant looming pain. I wanted relief. And I found it in telling people to fuck off.

Not literally, but with my actions. I started working harder in school and became smarter than the idiots who angered me and made me feel low. I changed my appearance and started dressing nice, a shirt and a tie can go a long way. And soon I saw that I was being respected. This made me realize that I could do better than what my depression was telling me. So can you.

Change the way you think, you have to. You are amazing and can do great things. You need to find it.

I know, you’re tired and you feel alone. But that’s what I want to be here for. I want to make you feel wanted, because you are wanted. Again, I’m not saying it to be generic. I want to talk to you, hear you story and listen. I’m willing to be that friend.