Why writers are suicidal

2 07 2015

I think it’s because we think, simply put. We examine the world. We observe humans. We ponder the “whys” of things. And a lot of it is depressing. There are always wars. People are selfish bastards. We take things personally and then ruminate on them later.

We are sad because the world is a sad place to live in. We just think about it a lot more than most.

Something to make you cry

29 02 2012

Dammit, I forgot to post something yesterday.  Argh.

Anyway, here’s one of my favourite It Gets Better videos, mainly because it makes me cry a lot.  A lot.

Re-inspired by Glee

21 02 2012

Every once in a while, I’ll see or hear something that makes me step back from reality, something that reminds me of my purpose in this world.  It happened again tonight while watching the newest episode of Glee.  Surprised?  Rolling your eyes at me?

Perhaps I should clarify that it really was only one short part in the episode that made me re-think things (ie. not when Rachel is singing at Regionals.  Meh).  *Spoilers!*  Blaine sings a cover of “Cough Syrup” by Young the Giant to Kurt on stage.  While he’s doing so, Dave Karofsky, now outed to his school and online, contemplates, then prepares to kill himself in his bedroom.  Of course, this made me tear up and cry a little, as I’m sure it did for a lot of people.  But moreover, it reminded me that I have a responsibility in this world to ensure that gay teens, even if in this case it is a fictional character, don’t have to do what Karofsky did.  It reminded me of my documentary project idea about gay teen suicides across North America.  It reminded me that maybe doing this project is more important than school or work or watching TV shows; this is about getting an important message out there– one that I have the potential to tell and show everyone.

It’s difficult because it’s not like I can just go out and make this documentary.  If I was only working and not in school, things would be so much easier.  Or if I had help, since it takes more than one person to make a documentary…  and it takes a lot of planning.  In some ways, I feel like I’m too late to cover this topic.  The big news stories about the string of suicides happened almost a year and a half ago.  I should’ve gotten footage of things going on then.  Who’s to say there aren’t filmmakers doing it right now?  But I want to do this, I really do.  It’s got me thinking, it’s got me thinking.

And I have Glee to thank for that.

How should I spend $200 to change the world?

9 11 2010

Before all two of you start harassing me about where I suddenly got $200 from, I shall explain.  Last month, there was a special day when students, teachers, and random people who were most likely drawn in by the abundance of orange balloons in the front of the building, all gathered to celebrate Langara’s 40th birthday.  There were contests, games, and booths everywhere on campus and I entered a whole bunch of contests, not thinking I would ever win anything because of course, well, I don’t.

About a week or so later, I get an email from someone at Langara who tells me I’ve won a $200 gift certificate to Oakridge mall and asks when I want to come pick it up.  Long story short, I now have $200 to spend and I’m not sure what to buy.

My first instinct was, as most people’s, what to buy for myself or for friends/family.  After all, Christmas is coming up and as a student, I don’t have that much to spend anyway, so this would be a good chance.  But it didn’t seem right — maybe it was the fact that I had been reading Gulliver’s Travels and was filled with hopelessness about the entire human race (likely) but I wanted to do something more.

I established that I wanted to do something for the homeless by buying them a whole bunch of blankets at Zellers or the Bay and giving them out to people on the street but I realized that it wasn’t enough.  Sure, it would be keeping them warm during the winter, but that, to me, isn’t the point.

I don’t want to make their lives more comfortable, only to have them face the same hardship next year.  Instead of trying to fix the problem, I want to eliminate it.  I want to stop poverty at the root, rather than provide a temporary solution.

This seems ambitious, even to me, and it’s not like I have $200 to spend on buying people a new life.  I also thought of, just today, helping out gay teens who may be thinking about taking their lives, what with all the publicity surrounding their suicides these past couple months.  But I also have no idea how to do that.  I realize i could very well start a campaign of some sort to make people aware — something like buying pink shirts and waving pamphlets in people’s faces on the street and then getting everyone to wear a pink shirt, much like Anti-bullying day — and it’s not that I don’t think these campaigns are effective, but that they do not seem effective enough.  I want to do more.  I want change now.  That is a lot to ask for, and I know that, but I want to do more than buy a whole truckload of pink shirts or buttons or something to combat a much bigger problem.

If anyone has any suggestions, I’d be more than open to hear them.  Keep in mind that the gift certificate is only valid at Oakridge (aka. Rich People’s Mall) so I am limited in the stores and consequently, what to buy.

PS.  I also secretly want publicity but I have come to realize (and accept… sort of) that anything surrounding me is never really publicized.  That being said, it would be nice though!


3 10 2010

In the wake of the recent gay teen suicides in America, I’m posting this song I wrote. It really affected me, more than news stories usually do, and I want to do something about it but I really don’t know what to do.  Anyway, here’s a song about closeted. [vid at the bottom]


Breathe a secret in a bottle,
careful not to spill a drop.
Slam a cork in,
throw it away.

But it someone were to catch this message,
he swears his world would fall.
So it’s best not to breathe
than say anything at all.


I know it’s hard but
every word you say, every step you take
will lead you to where you belong.
And out of darkness,
there’ll be a light, you’ll no longer fight
with the demons of doubt in your head.
And walk through the door

And with each passing day
the secret’s in his heart.
You can layer on the lies
but a thought is never too far.
A thought is never too far,
a thought is never too far.


And when the bottle washes up on someone’s shores,
that’ll be the day… someday.


31 08 2010

Something I wrote for my poetry class.  It feels like a complete departure from what I usually write but I like pushing myself to explore different subjects.


Florescent lights, like a hospital patient room
Sanitized floors, trying to hide scuff marks
A crimson neon exit sign hangs above my head,
Me, a grim reaper with a gun

Number 1 and 2 fall soundlessly,
their hands in the other’s like I’ve always seen them
Always clutching, touching
3 screams before a silver reply pierces her lungs.
My devilish hands, puppeting my sight, spy 4, eyes closed
as if content for having lived only sixteen years.
I must turn away as my demon fingers pull the trigger
After wounding 5, she crawls on elbows, reduced to a human rowboat
But as I gain on her, cannon in hand, the boat sinks, a hole too many, liquid rushing out instead of in.

A sound startles me.

6 sits slumped, rocking back and forth, a pendulum
fingers creating trenches behind a crying face, moaning like a siren.
The sight slashes into me, deeper than any round I’ve fired
I nod in recognition of the pain he endures and will endure and continue
At the end of the hallway stand two white doors,
and before I pass, I turn around
It smells of death:
Blood tainting the floor
Flickering lights, like a morgue
They lie there, sleeping kindergarteners
Sons and daughters.  People’s children.
Suddenly, pain surges and I unleash a fury of gray tears upon myself.

It started with a bullet.  It will end with one.
My hands, still possessed, perform one last sin.
“How did it come to this?” I wonder as I christen myself number 7.

The Tower Card

2 03 2010

Something old and emo.

The Tower Card

A cloud of uncertainty hangs above my head
I’ve been wondering for so long,
yet have never attempted it
but I guess it’s time now
For too long, there has been war
of all sorts
all around me
Suffocating the life from me
And when life promises to be kind,
it turns on its word
stabs me with a dagger of wickedness
until I can no longer sustain the injuries
So I may as well finish the job
I pick up the silver medicine
gleaming at me
taunting me to take it
to free myself from this everlasting pain
I take it gently and carefully to my hand
As the clock strikes twelve,
I am eternally asleep on the ground
With a devilish grin on my wrists
its mouth open
and blush words continually spilling out
“You can’t turn back time now”