Tragedy Loves Happiness

People will be people. Kids will be kids. I've thought about this for a long time. A question that lingers in just about everyone's head when they see me post on Facebook or read this blog is "Why does he care so much?" You don't even think about the question because you already assume you know the answer. "Because he's a good person" or "He doesn't know how the world works yet." That's only half of the truth. Sure, I don't entirely know how the world works but I've got a good idea. You're damn right I'm a good person but it took a lot of hard work by my loving Mom and Dad, seeing my Sister just as damaged as I was and being an open minded person. So why do I care so much? Well, there was a point in my life where I was on the right track. Sure I made dumb kid moves; drew on walls, broke the heads off my sister's Barbie dolls and stuck my mom's jewelery in a toy car set and then couldn't get it out. But I...

I was always a creative person. These thoughts and ideas never left me for as long as I had an inkling of hope. I'm telling you this because there were five years where I almost died. My sanity had left me, my kindness slowly went into hibernation. My eyes did not show the strength and courage they do now. They showed fear. Five years of hell is what I tell people. It's what I've told everyone. That's not even close to the truth. It was a nightmare I could never wake up from. The nightmares I had as a child during those times were more comforting than spending another day in my situation. The things I had loved doing, specifically reading, was taken away from me. I was thrown into a religion I did not accept simply because it made no sense. The adults I lived with didn't show me compassion at the time and if they did it felt as if they wore masks. I tell people I don't remember those years. It's a lie. I remember all of it. I remember getting my hand nearl...

I've learned that most religions teach that you have a place in the world, no matter what you're doing. Honestly I've never felt that I belonged. I've always felt that there's just something missing within me. It was always a nagging feeling that I was meant for so much more in this world and there were many ideas that came to my mind that just didn't fit the budget, be it unrealistic or I just didn't have the drive for it that I thought I did. When you grow up as a kid, especially in some bad situations like I did, you want to be able to be someone else... something else. In the back of my head I've always wanted to be the better guy. The man that takes the high road not only for himself but for those around him and any others he can reach with his voice. It's been my dream, consciously and unconsciously, to inspire others. To make other people happy and to show them that no matter the hardship, you can cross any obstacle you put your mind to. You...

Depression. I'd like to say that at one point in everyone's life that they've experienced some form or another of depression. This is of course not true, but if it was and more people persevered through it then it wouldn't be a topic that everyone is scared of or doesn't understand. I tell people I had depression for about a year namely my first year of high school. Well, specifically that year was when I had contemplated suicide the most. That was me at my tipping point and I didn't even show it to people. That's what people with depression do. They don't want you to see them in pain. We're afraid of bothering you or maybe we just don't want someone's pity. I always had a fear of death, who doesn't? Thankfully when my mom reached out to me and I ended up going to therapy I was able to get pulled out away from the edge. I went straight from the edge of the cliff to taking a needle and stabbing myself repeatedly. Now I should mention imm...