An Open Letter To My Best Friend

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Dear Best Friend,

  We haven’t known each other since birth, but you are the person that I’m closest with. You have seen me at my highs and lows. You have laughed and cried with me. You have been mad at me, you have been proud of me, but most of all, you have been there for me. I don’t say thank you enough, and some days I take you for granted.

  You have seen me at my worst, when my depression took over, when I hadn’t showered for days. You stayed up till the wee hours of the morning talking with me, making sure that I was okay. You reassured me that I was going to be okay, that things wouldn’t stay bad. You promised not to give up on me like others have.

   When I gave up on myself, you didn’t give up on me. When I didn’t have the strength to go on, you gave me strength. When I didn’t love myself, you gave me love. You have been there for me like no other has. When boys broke my heart, you not only wanted to hurt them, but you told me that I was worth so much more than how they treated me.

  I love nothing more than talking with you about silly things, like kdramas and beautiful male actors. I love laughing with you, you know what I enjoy. You sometimes think that you are a bother, but you’re not. I love when you spam me with messages about Scary Cop. I love when we die over things like your co-workers, or the otp that I have.

  You are more than my best friend, you are my sister. and I love you.


Open Letter To The Church

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Dear Church,

  Isn’t funny that you are supposed to be the place of love and forgiveness and acceptance…but I didn’t get that from you? I came to you in my brokenness. I came to you when I had no where else to go. I came to you when I was bleeding. I came to you when I was crying. I came to you when I was on the brink of death, and you turned your head and walked away from me.

  Church…are you not supposed to be like Christ? Are you not supposed to love your neighbor as yourself? Is it not your job to open your arms and welcome in the broken and hurting? Where have you gone church? What have you done? I am calling for my brothers and sisters but when I speak in all honesty, you flee from my presence.

  How dare I speak about my illnesses, my addictions, my struggles. How dare I say that I need help, that I need someone to walk along side me. You tell me scripture after scripture but you do not sit down and listen to my cries. Yes I know Jesus is there for me, but sometimes I need you, a fellow believer to sit with me and hold me as I cry.

  Shhh, I can’t mention that I was sexually assaulted by a “member” of the church. “Forgive him and move on” you say, not realizing that I lay awake, feeling his touch, feeling dirty and used. I am forced to look upon his face every time I step through the doors, I am forced to relive that moment over and over again, and I can’t cry out about the injustice. Only now, since I have moved, am I free of him.

  You say that depression means that I’m not close enough with God, but it’s in those deep pits of depression that I am closest with God. It’s when I am in my bed, crying so hard that I want to scream, that I am reaching out to Him. I am like David, saying Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me. I am weary with my crying out;my throat is parched. My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God.” 

  Church, where have you gone? Where were you when I called out saying that I needed fellowship, when I needed my brothers and sisters. Where are you when I have come in my brokenness, my body weary, my eyes red, my soul hurting. Oh Church what have you done?

Open Letter To The Boys Who Broke My Heart

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Dear Boys,

  Yes I said boys, you don’t get to be called men. You acted like you are above the law. (which is funny considering the history of one of you.) You tried putting the blame on me, saying things like “You’re crazy and This isn’t what I thought you would be like and This is too hard” But I’m who I am, I told you that when I love, I love with my whole heart. Maybe you weren’t ready for commitment, and hey, that’s okay. But you should have the decency to tell me that.

  I could call you all out, name by name and tell the world of the wrongs you committed, but that would be spiteful of me. I don’t want revenge, I want you to know that I forgive you. Yes, you may have broken my heart, but you taught me that things don’t always work out in life. By your actions, pain did flow but so did hope, and forgiveness, and even love.

  I wish you all the best in your lives, I pray that God uses you to further His glory. I pray that you look back and reflect on your life so that if one day you have sons, you can teach them to do better. I pray that each of your lives would flourish and you receive everything that your heart truly wants. I pray that you find someone that you can love and take care of and make beautiful memories.

  Yes, my heart is broken, but God and I are mending it together. I am traveling down a road that is so beautiful. I may be broken, but I am stronger now. So boys….thank you.

Why I (Think I) Want To Die


  Warning- This post will be talking about the sensitive issue of suicide and self harm. Many view these subjects as taboo and don’t want to and will not talk about it. Today, I’m going to break down those barriers. However, I do not want to place others in a bad place, so please be careful as you continue to read.

Every day that I wake up, one thought never fails to pop into my head “I want to die.” Extreme I know…or is it? I know that I am not the only one who struggles with feelings of suicide, self hate, and self harm. According to the American Psychological Association in the United States, 2 percent of deaths is caused by suicide and whereas the rates for men over 69 are the highest, they are also climbing at an alarming rate for those who are between the ages of 15-24 and it is the third leading cause of death for that age group.

Now comes the question, “Why do you want to die?” For each person the detailed answer will be different, but there is always the underlying reason, and it’s simply this- We hurt so much to the point that we don’t see the point in living anymore because death is the only escape for us. I know, this is horrible. But what is worse is that we cry out for help and we are not heard. I can’t count the number of times that I tried to talk about what I was feeling and going through, only to be told that “it’s a phase you will be fine” “just suck it up and go on with life” “It cant be that bad” “Others have it worse than you” When we hear things like this, we feel worse about ourselves and we wonder why we even talked about it in the first place.

Self harm is also something that many struggle with, it isn’t a mental illness in itself but it can be a sign of a mental heath problem. For those who don’t deal with self harm, many think its just cutting, but self harm can also be the burning of skin, hitting oneself till an injury is gained, preventing wounds from healing, and even pulling out hair. Now here comes the question, why do they self harm? There are many reasons why, but over all its a coping method. Yes it is an unhealthy method, and many who self-harm know that. I struggle with self harm, and why do I do it? I do it to cope with anxiety and depression, it turns my emotional pain into physical pain, it simply makes me feel better…or it does for a short time. Even though self-harm isn’t a mental illness, in my own opinion, it can become an addiction (and I know many who will agree with me.)

I’ve had these struggles since I was the age of 12, and I’m a few weeks from turning 20. I know some of you reading this will think, “If she wanted to die then she would have tried harder” And to you who think that, the truth is that I am afraid of death, because I want a better life. I only think that death is the only way out of the pain I am in, but if there is another way, then I want to take it. And there is hope, there is another way. Treatment is becoming available to more and more people, but we still have a long way to go. So many cannot afford the medication, the therapists and so they just fall back into their old ways and are forgotten.

Then there are the teenagers and children whose parents think that their child is fine and don’t need help, parents I urge you, listen to your children. Wouldn’t you rather go to 100 appointments to help your child instead of finding them one day dead? We need to stop talking over the people who are crying out. We need to have an ear to hear.

So, why do I (think I) want to die? Why have I not tried harder, to be better or to kill myself? Well, here’s the thing, I just want to be okay. My friend Deanna can attest to this, when my depression is bad and I vent to her, the thing that I say over and over is “I just want to be okay.” (Thank you Deanna for being there for me, that means a lot to me) This isn’t a race, this isn’t a competition between people, it’s a fight within ourselves. Every single day I fight to be okay, I fight against the thoughts that fill my head. Maybe others do have it worse, but the fight isn’t against them, its against me. I fight myself, I fight to be better.

But many who are in the same place as myself have stopped fighting, because they feel like they are alone, that they are not being heard. That stops now. If you are reading this and you have feelings of suicide and self-harm, you. are. not. alone. I am one of many who are fighting to have your voice heard, and I will not stop. I know how hard things can get, I know about those days where you cannot do a single thing but lay there in your bed, unable to even cry. I know the empty feeling, I know the feelings of self-hate. I know of the thoughts that fly through your head, the thoughts of “maybe I’m crazy” “maybe I’m not trying hard enough” “maybe I’m not worth it” But you are not alone, you will be okay in time, things do get better.

You. Are. Not. Alone.

~My Body~


  I’ll be honest, I struggle a lot with my appearance. I hate the way my body looks, I am fat, I have stretch marks, I have scars, I have uneven coloured skin. I think my nose is too big, my eyes look weird, I’m not even going to mention my teeth. My hands don’t look elegant, my fingernails grow strangely. I have scars all over my arms and legs. I hate my body.

  Maybe that’s why I love make-up and clothes, I can mask what I hate, what I deem as unworthy. I become another person by what I wear. I can be an innocent little girl or a badass 20 year old. But it’s all a cover for what I really am. I’ve lost myself in a pit of mental illness and self hate. I ate every lie that was feed to me.

  I don’t know how I’m going to make it past this but I just know that I will. It might take me years, but I will keep fighting. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I want to be able to wake up and be okay with what I see in the mirror. I want to be able to love every single inch of my skin.