BEDA Day 3: I’m fucked up

I’m pretty fucked up.

I’ve accepted the fact, ever since my friend back in high school committed suicide three months before graduation.

I’ve become somebody who puts everyone else’s happiness before their own. Most of the time, no matter how tired and how fed up I am with helping others, I do it anyways. I’d rather have someone I care about be alive than for me to be my happiest.

I don’t want to feel the same guilt with the people I currently care about that I’ve been feeling for the last 2 and 1/2 years. I’m making up for all those times I was ignorant and unobservant of others’ emotions by being overzealous now.

Is it healthy? No. Will I keep being this way? Yea.



BEDA Day 21: 2 years and 5 months

I wondered about how long it would take for me to stop feeling guilt for your death. Even though everyone else have said that there was nothing I could have done, that you would have killed yourself anyways.

Your lips curved upwards but your eyes were so sad, and even though I credit myself to be incredibly observant, I couldn’t see that. What was wrong with me? For over a year and a half, we would wave to each other when passing by and say “hi” when close enough. Not a single encounter went any further than that.

I know I shouldn’t, but I constantly beat myself up inside wondering how much longer you could have lived if I stopped to ask you what was wrong. Would you have graduated high school? Would I have seen you walk across that stage to accept your diploma?

I was flipping through my yearbook a few days ago to find my yearbook quote, and I found your picture. You looked so happy. Your smiled reached your eyes.

Maybe we didn’t end up very close, and I shouldn’t be feeling this awful, but once you get close to someone, no matter how far you drift apart, they’re always a part of your life.



The other day, my mom told me of a female college student from Boston, MA who committed suicide because she was recently raped by a person from the same university.

This bit of information hit me extremely hard because suicide is not something you talk lightly about. And also because I’ve experienced firsthand what the suicide of a friend does to you emotionally and psychologically. It fucks you up. Badly. It fills you with guilt, because you’re beating yourself up over why you didn’t try harder to save them when it wasn’t even your fault in the first place.

I wonder if the rapist thought about the possibility of his victim ending her life when he did it. I wonder if he even thought of his victim as a human being capable of self destruction when he did it. I wonder if he even remembered that he was possibly ruining a young girl’s life when he did it.

“13% of rape victims attempt suicide” – Women Vote PA

If you think about this statistic, 13% is a lot of people. That’s 1 in every 7.5 people. Count all the friends you know that are rape survivors, and if you know 7-8 people, then 1 of them might end their lives. More importantly, if you’re a person who isn’t against rape/would rape someone, reflect on the above stat, and imagine if your sister/brother/best friend/girlfriend/boyfriend was the 1 out of 7.5, would you still have the same mindset?

I also wonder. I wonder if the rapist is someone who wants a power trip so bad that he/she is willing to damage another human being beyond repair for it; or if he/she is just an asshole who doesn’t think of the consequences of his/her actions.

Is it worth it?



Ticking Time bomb

This is a poem that I wrote regarding a line my best friend said. This poem might be triggering to some, so TRIGGER WARNING. And yes, this poem is about suicide.
I don’t want you to be a ticking time bomb.

But when I finally realize it,

it’s always too late.

Counting down the days,

counting down the minutes,

counting down the seconds.

How many times has the fuse been blown out?

It’s only getting shorter.

Who will give you the lighter next time?

Would you search for your own?

“Can’t I be selfish one last time?”

you ask.

Well, can you?

What do we say to a question like that?

Doesn’t matter how we answer it,

It’ll only cause destruction.

“Can’t I be selfish one last time?”

Well, can you?

Doesn’t it all depend on you?

Your bank account has run dry,

because your problems have taken you places

you didn’t even know existed.

The deepest crevices of your mind,

don’t return your deposit,

so you fill it with your fears,

and the emotions you’d never visit with company,

before you seal it with your tears.

So when you ask “can’t I be selfish one last time?”

the answer should be YES

because you’ve been too selfless,

why else would your emotions never see the light of day?

You’re not afraid of them,


I’m afraid of the day I get that phone call

because you’ve blown up.

I’m afraid of the day

when I will have

no more days to count.

no more minutes to count.

no more seconds to count.


Guilt that I shouldn’t be feeling

Lately, well not really-ever since last March, I’ve been feeling immense amounts of guilt and it’s been eating away at me slightly. I know I shouldn’t be feeling like this because it’s not my fault but I do anyways.

I keep on thinking “what if”? What if I had been a better friend? What if I tried harder to not let him go? What if I pulled harder at my end?
Would I have changed anything? Would the outcome of events be any different?

I’m also having conscious horrible daydreams about friends getting into car crashes. So obviously this has affected me deeply.