I always envied and despised stupid people around me. Why do they get to be happy? Why was I always told being smart is a good thing?? It’s not a good thing. Being smart is a curse. The smarter you are the more socially awkward you are. Especially being a smart kid. Stupid kids become stupid adults and they are the ones that get to enjoy the meaningless pleasantries of life. Being smart sucks. The dumbest stupidest assholes have the most friends and screw like damn bunnies. Why can’t I have 500 friends and screw 24/7…. It’s a curse. being smarter than 9/10 people is a curse. It just intimidates them, makes you seem weird or superior. People fear what they don’t understand. What they fear must be ridiculed and marginalized to substantiate their own feelings of self worth. I’m different. most of you are probably different. Stupid people don’t get this depressed. Why would they? They couldn’t see how the world is fucking them if you gave them a map and a flashlight and couldn’t care less anyway. The illogicality of it all. Why would the cow care about the slaughter house next to the field? As far as they are concerned the grass is green and tasty. The cattle prod just an uncomfortable minute distraction from the tasty cud they occupy their lives with. How many dogs have you seen that want to kill themselves? Stupid people are more animals than human. Who wants to be human. Being human just entails a life of disappointment and failed expectations. I wish I could just enjoy the grass. I envy and despise them all at once. Probably why people use heroin. Wish I could just take the slow road out with a needle stuck in both arms. I envy you stupid !!!
Autumn is here….the season where everything dies…. I love this time of year and I’m glad that this will be the last season I ever experience…its something soothing about watching nature die….the leaves fall…the grass turns tan…..the bugs die…..flowers wilt away…. seems like the perfect time to die….
I feel sick. Physically sick. I want to run to the bathroom and eject all of my insides. I want to eject my heart out of my throat just to know I still have one. I want to eject my life out and watch it fade into a mist in the air as my empty body collapses to ashes in the grass. And mentally sick. I’m crying. But I don’t know why. I want to talk to someone. But even the people I love and trust I can’t open up to. I just can’t.
don’t read this
just wanted to say thattttt, well, not even feeling suicidal now, because I’m drunk, buttttt I understand how about 90% of you feel (after reading the posts as a non-member for a while) annnd i think this site is amazing. because when i was feeling these thoughts i was a lot younger (not that I don’t feel them now) but let’s face it when you’re younger you almost have to depend on your parents and it only worsens that feeling of helplessness when you can’t drive/escape because you rely on your parents’ money/support, etc. and when I was younger I didn’t have a computer much less know about sites like this where people could actually comment and vent together…. it was just me.
anyway alsoo i’m pretty sure my hopelessness is just a part of me now call it depression or whatever you will but that feeling you get when you know there’s no reason for anything and you’re not even happy so what’s the point in living righttttt well yeah that will always be there but guess what life is all there is so unless you believe in some fucking heaven (and if you do im pretty sure suicide aint gonna get you there) then you might as well just face facts. and yes i have been there where i have felt like even nothing absolute nothing would be better than this pain but at the same time i mean dont any of you just go outside and fucking sit in the grass under the sun maybe witness something ridiculous in nature and just think holy shit life is so much more than just me and all the shit i am dealing with. true sometimes the ego is so big of course we can’t see past it but all i can say is, try… and if it’s not working, try harder… and if that doesn’t work either… when you think you’ve tried your very best and you still can’t deal…. well listen to Tool and be “Patient” .
to that one person i know will never read this: i love you………… andd i honestly just hope with all my heart that you are happy because well to quote a song “the fact that I can’t be what you need, is cutting off my air supply” haha… and if i just knew somehow that you were happy anyway maybe i could get over you and move on. but that probably will never happen.
I thought I would be okay, but in three day’s time, I had another accident.
A few days ago, I slit my wrist up. Never deep enough to kill, but just enough sting to get the point across. I padded it up and wrapped an ace bandage around it, claiming I just sprained it. No one at work questioned it, my boyfriend didn’t say anything outright about it. It’s hard to keep things from him though. So I told him. He grabbed my wrist and took a glance. He said my name, which sounded so… Off. It doesn’t feel right when he says it. It hasn’t for a while. I digress.
So we found ourselves sitting on the balcony of our apartment, my razors in hand; one slightly rusted razor blade that I had stolen from work (I wonder if they ever noticed I was stealing the blades?) and one from a child’s pencil sharpener. I tossed them into the grass below us.
Well so much for that.
I found another blade.
Today we were supposed to go to his grandparents’ for his grandma’s birthday. It started at 3:30 and I was still at work at 3:20. So I text him, telling him he could go ahead and leave, hoping that he’d say no. That he’d stay with me and we could go together. He says “Okay, meet you there” and leaves. I pass him on my way home.
So there I found myself alone (which is never good). I found myself alone with the razor.
And it happened.
I don’t think I’ll ever get better…
This time he won’t find out because they’re on my legs and I’m keeping my mouth shut. I have to suffer in silence. He won’t notice them unless we get intimate (and that’s never, which has a huge impact on my self-esteem and why I hurt myself. Silly I know, but it happens nonetheless.).
I don’t know what to do anymore…
And I’m scared it’s just going to get worse.
Fuck being in love.Love, it is torturing me. It truly is horrible to be in love with someone who will never feel the same way about you. It eats you from the inside, causes more insecurities to appear, it’s just another thing that pushes me closer to killing myself. And I hate myself even more for falling in love with someone who only thinks of me as a sweetheart, someone with a perfect girlfriend that I could never compare to, I hate myself for getting myself into these situation. I just really hate myself and life in general. Can’t I die already? I don’t want to feel anything anymore, I want to be deep under the grass and dirt where I can finally be content in the darkness.
2 years clean and i finally broke down. Â My wrists have so many scars on them its….its funny…
I claimed insanity today..I cut my arms and laughed as the blood slowly came out. I threw my head back and laughed.
I dont cut deep enough to drip blood..just enough to leave a mark.
closed my eyes and keep picturing me as a little kid. running through the grass with my arms open wide my head held high…laughing
I posted my picture of my cuts because to me its a pretty picture..but no one else thinks so…their all mad at me and it just makes me cut more.
ask me why i cut…because its the only pain i can control and i love it. I love to be able to be in control of something for once.
i claimed insanity today…i feel like im losing my mind..
i want someone to save me…but i dont want their help..
i claimed insanity today..threw my head back and laughed as the blood came through..
I don’t know what to do. I’m writing this and it’s all so sketchy. There are days I’m not paranoid and then there are days where I question if I should trust the world and my loved ones. I’m just a fucked up statement of life. I hate life and everything it consists of. I don’t wanna see the sun shining and the clouds passing by. I don’t wanna see the grass and the food we eat that in the majority is micro-processed. I feel so burdened with my thoughts, for they consume me entirely. I am not me anymore, I am a curvature of a broken life. I’ve been writing poetry lately and I’m thinking of taking it off Facebook. I don’t know if the people that read my stuff are plotting against me or something. On a daily basis I struggle with the thoughts of why am I here? What is my purpose? Life is a routine and I’m rotting away. I think of how freaky it is that we see through these eyes and walk with our limbs. Like omg, it’s not cool. It’s like I’m repulsed by everything and anything, why do we have an environment and why are things ours instead of someone else’s. Our stuff has our aura on it. It’s all weird. I’m paranoid most days. I’m anxious with pins and needles through my body and my body gets so hot that I be thinking I have high blood pressure or something. I’m the definition of the walking dead. There’s nothing that life has to offer me besides the possibility of music fulfilling me. But even then, music gets me paranoid. I think music talks to me, even the radio. I refuse to listen to the radio most of the time. I try so hard to tell my mind that’s its all in my mind. I just wanna be non-existent. But on the other hand life is all I’ve known. What happens after death?
Let me live again
Let me dream of how things were
Let life be my grass I walk on
Looking for a place to stay free
(You still did this to me)
Let me be the only thing I dream big dreams for
Let my heart grow strong against love
Where you could never last past the moment
That many men crushed me daily
(You were everything to me)
Ugh, let my hands gently lift my hair
Slowly pulling it back revealing my eye
Black and blue among other colors that leak through
But for some odd reason
I just canâ€™t let go
(Thereâ€™s never been happiness,
Nor real love in this â€œstupid lifeâ€)
Say, who are you that walk through my door?
And who are you that draw me close to you?
I am a young girl, clinging onto my hope
Torn in two by hands of endless hurt
Of beating, bruised, tormented, and confused
Of pampered to fix! Of pampered to a way of being sorry!
Of yelling from you! Of taking the pain!
Of an act of love seen ever so not real
Slapped back for being stupid because you too were there
Yet wonâ€™t admit that you did this to me
I am a young girl who lives in hell
Visual tears tell me nothing more than pain
Yet im the one to blame for this
In the lifeless world where I was still me
Who dreamt a dream so wrong, so long, so true
That even if it was right
In every light and window, in every corner of my room
Thatâ€™s made me stronger than any man
Ugh, im a young girl who has walked alone
In search of a lovely life that was meant to be
For im the one who left to escape you
And your hands, and your ugly lies,
And tore myself free to stand where I can
To build a â€œbetter lifeâ€
Who said it was better? Not you?
Surely not me? The millions of bruises?
The millions of times I was shot down?
The millions of lies that seeped out your lips?
For everything was a dream
And I believed the written words
And I believed the looks
And I believed that we would hang on
The millions of nothings that lingered
Except when it almost died
Ugh let me live again
The time was never meant to beâ€”
And yet must beâ€”so the joke was on me
The joke that you played in my mindâ€”that you existed as everythingâ€”me
Who stood for you.
Whose tears and blood, whose love and pain
Whose heart broke at the blows, whose sorrow left in the rain
Must not have ever been enough
Sure, call me stupidâ€”
The racing of my heart does not tire
From those who live like rats on my life
I must get back to being me
I say it slowly
Let me live again
And yet I swear I cantâ€”
I will soon be!
Out of the walls and shields I build up
The hate and misery, and loneliness, and lies,
I, the young girl, must break free
The time, the heart, the fake smiles, the tears
The pain pilled on top of pilesâ€”
All, all the things ugly must goâ€”
And let me live again
I don’t know how to make this a picture but click on the word you can see the cows at the farm I go to to get milk. They have the whole field to themselves and only a few are milked – and the others just hang out for months eating grass.
I love the light tan one on the right, but the one next to the spotty one was making me a little nervous. Â =)
ps. its one of the few places that makes me happy lately. =)
ive been thinking about this scince pi was born my aunt will hit me when i went to go live with her and my mom well i was a mistake to begin with i dont know if i can do this i live for my baby sister and my love but in reality im dieing i tried to drink hydrogen proixde but my best freiend dumped it out on the grass i was putting it in my mouth she thought i wasent gonna do it and i risk everything everyday living people will be like if u do that u will do that and i say well i wanna do it and idk i may seem despet sad and all that i am not i am fun i laugh i am just trying to move on my mom brings me down everyday she tells me her problems and my aunt has been good i guess on treating me good only hit me 2 i want someone to be there not get mad for doing the stuff i do i know he loves me but cuts help
leve me alone i dont like this i whant out of that billding i whant to go home
a fleeting glimps of what i youst to be of the boy runing torw my haed in a feld
were the red and blue flowers grow were the grass grows tall and thick were the boy who at age 9 pikt up a gutat and nevet let go he still hasut but the words of his songs talk of deth ad losst love with no way out with somthing to shout about WITH the will to go on
a fleeting glimps of what i was
a chilld 10 year old who thort the world was a fun place to the 16 year old who deth folowd
i grow up i saw things that no child shuod see who knows when he meets the girl behind the door shell slap him
but ther is 1
she is like no not like she is my sister
even we are on opsits sids of the world
i love her she looks after me and i try my best to do the same
but its geting harder and people will try and tag htis to normal teen problems but im not a teenager in flesh yes but in mie iv have been told i have the mentel age of a 40 year old iv seen to much iv hert my self to much and now the world whants me dead im…… well i hate to be the boy on the street asking for diyrechions but im lost and bleeding im drowning diying gon
i dream of walking to it
to count the crooked bricks
fall onto the too long grass
smell the juniper
go through the white door
with the lion knocker
walk through the rooms
the familiar spaces
and patterns on the floor
remember all the voices
all the sorrow
all the joy
through to the back yard
over old redwood planks
lawn surrounded by fruit trees
to lay under the great mulberry
to gaze up into its branches
and broad green leaves
watch the light dance
and the sky dance
close my eyes
Today I lay awake trying to will myself to my chores, with a man whom I am not inspired by, with a child I have no motherly passion for I do today entertain my weary mind while I work with the song of the shirt.
With fingers weary and worn, With eyes heavy and red, A woman sits in unwomanly rags, Plying a needle and thread, In poverty hunger and dirt, She lifts her head and sings the song of the shirt
“Work Work Work
While the cock is crowing in the dawn on the roof
and Work Work Work
Till the stars shine on the roof
To this life I am a slave
With never a soul to save
Work Work Work
Till the brain begins to swim
Work Work Work
Till my eyes grow heavy and dim
Sew and stitch and button and seam
Till over buttons I fall asleep
And sew them on in a dream
Work Work Work
my labor never flags
and what are its wages?
barely any rest and rags,
what is hear that I have to show a broken table and broken chair
A wall so blank
My shadow I thank for sometimes falling there
Work Work Work
In dull December light
Work Work Work when the weather is warm and bright
While underneath the eaves
The brooding swallows cling
as if to show me their sunny backs
and taunt me the spring
Oh I wish I could breathe a breath
of spring air warm and sweet
with sky above my head and grass below my feet.
For only one short hour
I wish to feel as I used to feel
Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal.
I wish I could only acquire one short hour
A respite however brief
but there is no time for love or hope,
Only time for grief
A little weeping would ease my heart,
in my bed,
but my tears must stop for every drop
Hinders my needle and thread.
I often fantasize about being stranded on a tropical island, completely isolated. I don’t care how I get there, and I don’t care the state I am when I finally arrive. But it would be nice, for once, to be completely alone in a beautiful place and not have to worry about media, or politics, or finances, or love. Just live with nature and forget about everything that happened in the “real world”.
I’m pretty adapted to nature. I know how to start a fire with a couple rocks, or two stick, or a bunch of dried grass, a couple of splintered sticks, and a piece of rope. I know how to make various shelters that could withstand wind and rain and whatever else nature decided to throw at me. I know how to hunt, to make hunting tools out of pretty much anything I can find lying around. I know how to protect myself from insects, and the sun, and the cold, and the wind. I know how to find water, and collect water should I not be able to find it.
I’m not saying I would survive should I be stranded, but at least I would put up a good fight. And if, by chance, I do die on that island, I’d die with my dignity (Hopefully). And I’d die alone, at peace, without having to worry about family or friends finding me. Sure, I’d be gobbled up by the local wildlife, but that wouldn’t matter, because no one would mourn over my remains, because there would be no one there to find them.
I watch Cast Away often. You know, the movie where the man talks to a blood-covered, semi-inflatedÂ volleyball? Survival portrayed in that movie IS possible. But I wouldn’t escape. I would stay there, in my own little slice of paradise, and live out whatever life I had left.
Yes,Â I often fall asleep thinking about it. And then I find myself dreaming about it. And I’m happy in my dreams.
But then I wake up. I remember that, according to the media, I am a waste of skin. I remember that my country is constantly at war. I remember that this week I’m going to have to choose between rent, or food, because I can’t afford both. I remember that I’m alone. And I feel sad. I feel anxious. I feel lost, and out of place, like a fish without water, or a bird who can’t claim the sky.
And when I start feeling like that, I close my eyes once more, and I picture that beautiful island. And suddenly I don’t feel so bad anymore. For that brief moment, reality fades away, and I’m home.
so my story continues…
I did lose my viriginity at 13 years old.
I really really regret it soo much. The day before i had sex I got high for the first time and we got high together it was going well at the beginning then I was on the grass he got on top of my and tried forcing his hand down my pants i kept telling him no. Then he asked if he could feel my breasts I said no. I was high but I could still think. But I was so high I was weak and he was so strong he forced his hands up my shirt and got on top of me. I kept telling him no i really didnt want that. Than he got off my and I was half passed out on the grass he told me if i could look at his thing and see if it was big and if i could touch but i didnt look and I wouldnt touch it either.
I was curious about sex and I wanted to do it just not with him.
The next day he thought I didnt remember anything about the last night but I did I just pretended I didnt so I could hear if he would admit to aything he did cause I know he rememebered. But he hadnt mentioned it really until I went for a walk with him and he said he might have forced himself on me when we were high im not sure if that was before or after we had sex.
But the day he wanted to have sex I kept saying no to him over and over again but yet he kept forcing his hands all over me then he gave up and started to make me feel bad finally for some reason I said yes….i should have just left. He wasnt gentle it hurt. I lied about a lot of things in my life ill give you 2 examples i lied about losing my viriginity earlier and i lied about getting high all the time when he really he was my first with both.
I saw him again and the same thing happened as the first i kept saying no he made me feel bad i gave in the day before i cut a big x on my arm he noticed but didnt care. After that i didnt want to see him.Â a week passed and i started crying myself to sleep and felt worthless.
I told my sister and she told me oh really I thought you lost it ealrier….that hurt. She wouldnt know how i felt. Since then she has looked at me differently and i hate it! I hate myself for it
He calls it “Summer Land”
Where we go to reflect and rest
Where our favorite teachers come to teach us again
Where the things we loved once
We get to do again
I imagine the entrace is something like the last shot
in “The Gladiator” so brightly lit
his hands graze over the grass
as he enters the heavy once bolted door
There are activities and plays inside
We get to see the ones we love
I forgot to tell many shitty things on my last post, like… I was really depressed bcuz many friends left me, and i chose to give my gf a better life in exchange for hell for myself. so i decided to go to a party with people i knew and the other 600 or something. late that night, i was real happy, not drunk, just a little bit dizzy. and it was reeealy cold outside, hey its norway:P but on the way i heard yelling, and i was like, god no, why… so i turned around and saw two elder boys come at me and wanted to beat me down, i did not understand what i did at all, why??? so there i was hit, kicked, spitted on, but dignity to hit back, but after awhile I got pretty angry so i made one hit at one of them and that was real hard and they flew away like birds in the park. and i was exausted begin hit so i fell down in the grass to catch my breath. i got up and started walking home. got a phone call by a dude who used to be my friend and told me: yeah, but u deserved it.
what? why? i said
its because of your style, he said
Yeah sure, im a wannabe, fuck im not, iwe been having my ”gangster-ish” style since i was 4. ITS JUST WHO I AM. People gets too disrespectful nowadays and it is killing the world.
i was confused.
walked home and did not tell anything, not even the cop. but i did not start cutting… yet. I have so many enemies, but that dosent mean i cant face them, cuz im ready to do so if they want problems with me
so on school i found out i have lost more friends, great. and days went by. guys/girls who read this, plz comment, do i sound like a wannabe asshole to u? if so, i wanna change.
Love from The Rapper
(From a dream. Sorry if the size of the post annoys. Just scroll on down.)
I was standing in a large grove of oak trees. It was sunny and warm. The wind was blowing faintly. The grass was bright green and lush. It seemed to be spring.
Through the trees a crowd of people emerged and walked toward where I was standing. The people were all smiling and laughing. They seemed to be in very good spirits.
Amongst them was a procession of young girls each wearing white dresses and adorned with a crown of wild flowers and each carrying a bouquet.
I was swept up into the crowd. I followed them as they entered a large building, made of wood, and topped with a dome. The people sat down in long benches facing a man who stood waiting. I sat down amongst them.
The man began to speak and I realized that this was some sort of religious gathering, though not one that I recognized. The man spoke to the crowd though I do not remember what it was that he said.
My focus was elsewhere as everyone in the crowd, besides the young girls who sat in the front row, wore dark clothing. However, there was a woman sitting on a bench behind the man that was speaking. She seemed powerful, important, she wore a bright golden dress and she was staring straight at me.
I began to feel nervous, even afraid. I felt like I did not belong there andÂ wanted to leave. As soon as I determined to stand and flee the woman in the golden dress stood up and put a hand on the shoulder of the man who was speaking.
She then stepped forward and said, “There is among us a stranger.” And she pointed at me. Everyone immediately looked right at me.
There was a whispered exchange between the woman and the man who had spoken and then the man told everyone to leave the room. I was told to stay.
Everyone left the room until I stood alone facing the woman in the golden dress. I can not remember if she spoke to me again but I had a strong feeling that something very important was about to happen.
I began to feel strange. The light in the room got brighter and my vision blurred. I began to hear a strange sound like a swarm of bees in distant gale winds.
The woman seemed to get closer to me and her eyes seemed to bore into me yet she did not move. The noise got louder and suddenly the walls of the building began to break apart, and the benches around me and the floor errupted. All around me the broken peices swarmed in a deafening wind. And somehow I knew that this all had a name. A name which I gave it as I grasped to understand it. The name was Baptism Machine and it terrified me.
Then it was as if the light, and the swirling objects and the noise became so great that they canceled everything out and became silence. I lost all sense of myself and felt no sensations. I did not know who I was or what I was, where or when. It was like slipping into oblivion.
Then I felt the sensation of movement. Like spinning. And then I saw light. The light was spinning. And there were shadows across the light. Shapes. The shapes were branches and leaves. The light was the sun. I saw the blue of the sky. I remembered what these things were.
I looked down to see what else was around me. Then I realized there was a me. I existed. I was in this place.
I looked around and saw a house. It was my house. I had lived there. I grew up there. This was my back yard. The tree above me was the mulberry tree. I knew all this.
I wanted to go to the house but I could not move. I had no body. I could perceive everything around me but I had no physical presense. I focused on the back door to the house and suddenly there was a tremendous rushing sound and I was there. Then I wanted to be inside and I rushed through the door, I could actually feel myself passing through it. Then I was inside the living room. The family cat was there. She saw me and meowed. I was delighted that she could see me.
I moved on. Was anyone here? I went to the front door of the house. I wanted to go through the door. Suddenly I had a body again. I reached out with my hand and turned the door knob. I went outside. My father was standing in the front yard. He had been waiting for me.
I asked him what was happening. He said,Â “You needÂ to learn something.”
I asked him what was it that I needed to learn. He would not say. I began to feel angry with him. I did not understand why this was happening or why he would not tell me. I shouted at him. Then I ran from him down the street. As I began to run he yelled out to me, his voice sounded frightened but I could not hear what he said.
I ran until I came to an intersection. I could either turn left towards the west or right towards the east. I felt that this choice was extremely important though I could not understand why. I felt the entire experience had brought me to this point.
I turned left.
Before me the sky instantly turned black and a funnel cloud struck the earth and began to tear it apart. The power and fury was beyond anything I could have imagined. I knew that I had chosen wrong. I knew that the force before me was malice, hatred, death. It came for me obliterating everything before it. I ran but it was to late. I was swept up into it. Fear and the cacaphony.
And the noise began to fade. Light before me began to focus. The wind of the machine began to die. The wooden peices of the building fell to the ground. And I stood there again before the woman in the golden dress.
She smiled at me and her eyes were filled with acceptance and love.
I thought it would be good to share my stories with others. I guess I will give you background info first. Sorry if I rant a bit.
I am now 21 years old and this happened 6 years ago, when I was 15.
Background info/biography: I had a rough childhood to say the least. I lived with my 2 siblings and my mother and father. My mother was extremely psychologically and emotionally abusive and manipulative. I can say that her behavior has had a permanent effect on me. Basically, growing up in my house, everything revolved around her and we all had to walk on egg shells constantly. We all had to constantly please her and no one else had the right to experience any unhappy emotions except for her. Some examples of her neurotic behavior included her forcing my siblings and me to cut the grass with scissors, and she had extreme OCD about cleaning. If she asked me to do something for her and I didn’t do it right away, she would say, “Oh, it’s too hard for you. I’ll just do it.” There were lots of arguments between us. I remember countless times being very young and crying because of an argument we had. I would be crying in her room and she would pretend I didn’t even exist.She was also neurotic; she would laugh at nothing and make very strange jokes. It made me feel very tripped out and uneasy.
My father, on the other hand, was very absent. He did not try to protect us children from my mother at all. I know that he loved us, but that doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t do anything to stop what was going on.
I learned later on the my mother is addicted to cocaine and my father is addicted to crack. This made a lot of sense to me. I know they still use to this day.
I started taking celexa when I was 14 for depression and anxiety.
When I was 15 I met my boyfriend online and we started dating. Our parents both seemed apprehensive about our relationship and didn’t seem to approve. They would constantly try to separate us. I was (and still am) very much in love with him, though. One day I was coming back from visiting him at his house, and we had been dating for about a year at this time. When I finally got home, I broke down. I couldn’t stand the oppressive environment I was living in, and I was in so much pain being away from my boyfriend. I couldn’t take the abuse from my mother anymore. Without really thinking about it, I took an entire bottle of Celexa (3 month supply).
I ended up in the ICU for several days with lung failure and kidney failure. I barely made it. I can definitely say that Celexa contributed to my suicide attempt. It caused me to not consider the consequences of my actions. That’s what anti depressants do: they zombify you so you can’t think clearly, and that’s why they seem effective.
I just hope people gain something from reading this and reconsider their antidepressant/anxiety drug use and realize how it effects them. I can gladly say I am drug free now.