justaoifethings

I feel as if I only wrote about a suicide, and here I am again, writing about another. It's devastating. Tears are in my eyes, and I did not know Cathriona. But her loss of life tugs at my heart. The fact she took her own life pummels it. I feel like I'm lost for words. Like Daniel Kyre and all the other people before her that committed suicide, they have done something irreversible. They have scarred their family and friends, most likely unintentionally. I can never say this enough, Depression corrupts the mind. Depression feeds you lies. Talk to people if you feel ending your life is a good option. Depression wants you to do this. It makes you feel it's right. But trust me, it is not. Cathriona is another light extinguished by her own hands. She isn't the first. And gut wrenchingly, she won't be the last. Right now, unimaginable amounts of people are contemplating suicide. People have killed themselves today, and just because they weren't in the ne

You can't do that. I'm told this a lot by my mother. She's anxious, and she probably means it with all good intentions. But to me, it makes me feel like I'm not good enough. I feel like I can't wear the clothes I enjoy. I feel like I can't get the grades I need for the uni I've dreamed of going to. I feel like I can't be independent. I feel like I'm not good enough. In June, I'll be moving out. My boyfriend and I will be working part time whilst going to college, and she's insisting we won't be able to afford it. She insists we'll be too stressed. She insists we won't enjoy college. She insists You can't do that. She wants me to live in my grandmothers and for my boyfriend to live on his own, which angers me. Why should I live somewhere rent free when he struggles on his own? We want to live together. We've lived in different countries our entire relationship, and we want to live together now. We don't care