myOtaku.com
Join Today!
My Pages
Home
Portfolio
Guestbook
Quiz Results
Contact Me
OtakuBoards
Saiyan Punk
Website
Click Here
Vitals
Birthday
1986-05-13
Gender
Female
Location
East Coast
Member Since
2003-08-29
Occupation
Hobo slave
Personal
Achievements
Gots a manga
Anime Fan Since
DBZ rocked the airways.
Favorite Anime
Hellsing, FMA, FLCL, Nerima Daikon Brothers
Goals
All that stuff we all want but probably will never have.
Hobbies
Playing video games, gardening, trolling...
Talents
I make freaking awesome smoothies.
|
|
|
Friday, October 16, 2009
Today's stupidity: Emo
I hate emo.
Not the music, not the bands, the clothing, the hairstyles, the fad... I hate the fakers who use depression as an attention grabber. I hate the faggots who write disturbed "poetry" and leave it all over their desks for someone to "find" and talk to them about. I hate the dipshits who cut then show of their scars and brag about it to their friends. I hate the assholes that, because of these fakers, tell the people who are really depressed and really need help "Shut up, emo kid. Your life isn't that bad."
Maybe their life isn't that bad but how many never got the help they needed because someone told them to shut up when they sought it? How many went from moderately depressed to suicidal because no one cared enough to even attempt assistance? How many went through with it and died because "Shut up, emo kid." were the only words they could hear? Too many.
I've been depressed since I was ten. I didn't know what it was then, only that I didn't feel right. I was 15 before this feeling really had a word but I still couldn't understand how one simple word could make me feel like dying. I didn't want to kill myself, I just wanted to sleep and never wake up.
At 17 I had gotten into a screaming match with my mother because I felt like she never cared. Halfway in I begged her, pleaded her, to take me to a therapist because she wasn't listening to a word I was saying even after I flat out told her I was afraid I'd really hurt myself.
Can you guess what she said to me? "Shut up, your life isn't that bad."
Looking back now, it wasn't. My life was ten times better then than it is now; however, I still felt the same and I have never been physically hit with any blow that had the impact those words did.
I didn't stop being depressed that day. I didn't stop feeling like I was dying, I simply stopped looking for help.
I reasoned that if my own mother hated me in the same way everyone else did, there wasn't any help out there for me. Foolish? Probably. Depression isn't one for making sense.
Comments
(1)
« Home |
|