tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8128562006044764852024-03-05T19:06:33.865-06:00The Suicide ListMariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.comBlogger168125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-4703973819300173982014-10-12T16:59:00.002-05:002014-10-12T16:59:12.289-05:00A Fairy Tale
Once upon a time there lived a girl named Mariah. She was
sixteen years old, had a mass of curly auburn hair that surrounded her like a
lion’s mane, and enough hurt bottled up inside her to fill an ocean. She fought battles with her tears and smited
entire empires with her temper. Those around her regarded her simultaneously as
an object of curiosity and a fountain of inspirational wisdom.Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-34019509925178247142014-05-09T00:04:00.003-05:002014-05-09T00:07:27.409-05:00How to write about depression
Gather a notebook, a suitable pen with smooth
ink, and a sweatshirt you can sink into.
Stare at the blank page, wondering where to cut
into cyclical thoughts.
Write three sentences. All of them begin with “I
feel” or “these days.”
Either become overwhelmed by too many thoughts
at once, or become frustrated by the sensation that the thoughts are leaking
through your brain via a coffee Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-75439268350793367812014-01-27T19:50:00.002-06:002014-01-27T19:50:42.561-06:00Ripp Van WinkleTime is a funny thing. I lay in bad watching the shadows creep across my blankets, and then suddenly five years have passed.
It's the sort of thing I can imagine my grandmother trying to explain to my brothers and I as she passes out cookies after lunch. I am not my grandmother though. I am young-- I am only 22.
"Only" twenty-two. To myself five years ago, and even to myself today, twenty-two Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-70046704596171551512013-08-07T00:23:00.001-05:002013-08-07T00:23:20.562-05:00ObsessionI know I'll kill myself someday. It's the only certain thing about my future, and it's still pretty vague. I don't know when I'll do it, or how I'll do it, or where I'll be. I don't know if it's going to happen three months from now, or thirty years.
I've become a weird curator of suicide trivia. I know how many aspirin I'd have to take, and I know all the things that can go wrong tying a noose.Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-3326162330319571022013-05-30T11:22:00.001-05:002013-05-30T11:22:37.975-05:00Transience/Permanence<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-85642167360663209372013-05-09T19:57:00.001-05:002013-05-09T19:57:26.272-05:00A Self-Centered Post<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-24658637932487449922013-04-03T22:51:00.003-05:002013-04-03T22:51:31.028-05:00Madwoman in the Attic (For Megan)<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-39041877799099436112013-01-15T23:07:00.000-06:002013-01-15T23:07:54.923-06:00Too Much WaterDepression is often compared to drowning. What most people fail to mention is that the water is contained within the body; the depressed person drowns internally. There are no crashing ocean waves, just a steady crushing of the lungs. Sometimes, when there's too much water sloshing around inside me, I try to puke it up. As sick as I feel, nothing ever comes up. Perhaps that is what tears are.Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-1784080133913263522012-11-16T23:37:00.001-06:002012-11-16T23:38:09.976-06:00Letters to the Girl from Yesterday
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Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-35599322796278583552012-03-06T22:15:00.004-06:002012-03-06T23:34:25.116-06:00All RoadsWhoever devised the rules of the world sure had an odd sense of humor. Maybe life's just really a video game and every time I'm about to complete a level I screw up and get booted back to the starting point. In any case, here I am updating this blog in 2012.I read these words and I know I wrote them, but it feels another lifetime ago (and damn, I was stupid when I was 16). And yet these recorded Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-82137803328029885162009-10-19T20:58:00.002-05:002009-10-19T21:07:04.367-05:00The End (at least for now)So, it's been around six weeks, hasn't it?I'm OK. Shaky sometimes, not always happy, but I'm OK. And I think I'm ready to quit this blog. There is really only so much I can say on this topic anymore. It's all the same old ever-present shit these days, receding.I guess it says a good thing about my well-being that I don't feel a need to continue.Thanks for reading!Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-17455828638145152752009-09-06T23:51:00.001-05:002009-09-07T00:20:58.289-05:00Just Another VideoMariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-30420191570310180712009-08-17T16:43:00.002-05:002009-08-17T17:33:17.897-05:00Three Years and a DayIt's been three years and a day since Eva died. As another year goes by, I can't help but feel that it's too long to still be hung up on this- almost 1/6 of my entire life so far.So what did I do yestderday?Volunteered at the rape crisis center. This was intentional.Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-68610495321424694152009-08-13T10:59:00.002-05:002009-08-13T11:19:41.898-05:00Cutting on the Today ShowWatch a medical analysist talk about SI while Seventeen magazine editor sits awkwardly to the side.I don't think Dr. Snyderman's analysis is the primary factor in most cases. Almost everyone who cuts that I've met experiences self-loathing to various degrees, but we consist of more than our bodies. Inside our minds, we hate ourselves for not being good enough; for always being wrong; for being Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-47359203112286924542009-08-09T14:30:00.002-05:002009-08-09T14:32:32.920-05:00Another PostSecretMariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-69572206785740696482009-08-09T01:12:00.002-05:002009-08-09T01:32:29.330-05:00MaybeMaybe someday I'll be able to put all this behind me.Maybe someday I'll walk into a roomful of strangers confidently wearing an outfit that doesn't cover me ankles to wrists. Maybe I'll approach someone and introduce myself and not feel like I'm being scrutinized for fine flaws which, when pressured, cause me to snap. I won't cower and run away.Maybe someday I'll visit Eva's mom up in Canada.Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-54234496332487665482009-07-27T16:26:00.002-05:002009-07-27T16:35:24.899-05:00GuiltThere is a reason I feel so guilty about Eva. I know it's a stupid reason, but it still plagues me. The summer Eva killed herself, I wasn't there. I left just after school let out for leadership camp program (this was back when I was recommended for this type of thing) and wasn't home a week before she killed herself. I wasn't there to see the preceding events. I don't know if there were Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-17598392519630217042009-07-24T11:06:00.003-05:002009-07-24T13:01:36.559-05:00Self and Safe SpacesIs one ever truly 100% free to be his or herself? There are unspoken rules in the communities in which we participate and society at large that specify a limited range of behavior. Of course, it's perfectly fine (by me- someone out there probably disagrees) that burglary and murder are not considered socially acceptable, but I'm more thinking of stuff that is stigmatized rather than downright Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-45024529968837239712009-07-19T15:15:00.002-05:002009-07-19T15:35:39.966-05:00"Cutting Is Fun," Says TeenThis interviewee would be one of those SIers who perpetuate the myth of "cutting is just a fashion statement" and that "cutters have no real problems." I think she pretty much speaks for herself.Q: “At what age did you begin to injure yourself?”A: “I started cutting at around 13 or 14 years old, around beginning ofjunior high.”Q: “What was the reason you began to hurt your body? Was there Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-49539323107987485192009-07-16T14:14:00.003-05:002009-07-16T15:16:22.940-05:00DrownedAt one point, I was different.I was just like you,Or him,Or her.Or anyone else in this room.At one point,I could laugh;I could cry;I could feel.AndThe rest of you are still like that andWill never go where I am now.I know there’s something wrong;I know this is no way to live.ButI also know thatI’ve given up.Why?Let this grim darkness be a riverAnd let me be a twig within it.The current is too Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-10931224572535598542009-07-12T17:05:00.002-05:002009-07-12T18:18:36.418-05:00Flawed LoveThat's an icky emo title, but it fits in with the theme of this post.You probably have, by now, heard of To Write Love On Her Arms, or TWLOHA for short. And maybe you're wondering what the heck it is that they do. I've personally only seen a couple of the T-shirts around, but heard lots of gossip about certain celebrities donning the shirts as well. As the target audience, a teenaged, past andMariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-25216471280876730762009-07-08T19:19:00.004-05:002009-07-09T17:40:55.897-05:00TripOn the loose to climb a mountainOn the loose where I am freeOn the loose to live my lifeThe way I think my life should beFor I only have a momentAnd a world world yet to seeI'll be looking for tomorrowOn the looseRemembering once-upon-a-time:Anything is possible;Life tilts in rhyme.Spinning, whirling, dancing;Blurry images fly past;A multitude of images colliding.I am melting, pooling,One with Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-68960720046926080292009-07-08T03:03:00.000-05:002009-07-08T03:32:14.285-05:00Depression PerceptionDear Insensitive Lady in the Doctor's Waiting Room,My name is Mariah and I live with depression. But I am not telling you this because it defines me. I define myself; I'm not a definition of a clinical illness.This depression, although a part of me, is not my most obvious feature under most circumstances. Most people do not accurately label me as depressed, just emo or angsty. Do I prefer this?Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-38802534338615897022009-07-03T01:04:00.001-05:002009-07-03T01:11:42.620-05:00On Mental DisabilityMariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-812856200604476485.post-53797920792663778922009-06-15T15:45:00.000-05:002009-06-15T15:55:58.789-05:00Road TripI've a long list of things to do "when I get better." Recently, though, I've been doubting the day will ever come.Though there are many things in which I feel lacking, including energy and motivation, what I do have is time. Lots of it. And I know that if and when I'm feeling better, I probably won't. I also was unable to get a job this summer due to unemployment rates and resulting number of Mariahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12023083819275449979noreply@blogger.com5