*ring ring* *ring ring* *ring ring*
*click*
Operator: Gooooood morning, suicide hotline.
Dave: Uh… hi. My name’s… Dave.
Operator: Well, how do you doodle-e do, Dave?
Dave: … … …
Operator: *audibly smiling*
Dave: Uh, well… not great, obviously.
A few handy hints for the on-the-go traveller who is far too busy (being an important, big shot man/woman-about-town, no doubt) to make time for the dreary underling, the tedious former associate, or the slightly mental, and (as you’ve just remembered) weirdly clingy ex-partner. Continue reading
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No matter how pathetic or inherently worthless you feel, you’ve made a difference in someone’s life.
I don’t want to write much on all this school shooting stuff, because it’s grown into a topic with a million facets; from people debating the merit of mental health funding over gun control laws, to people insulting the media for sensationalising criminals. My opinions aren’t important enough to mill around with all of that, but there is something that has occurred to me, as incorrect or presumptive as it may be.
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“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breath free.”
This is an extract from the poem that lies at the proud feet of America’s Statue of Liberty that, when first built, served as a beacon to travellers and immigrants as they neared their soon-to-be home. It served as a symbolic gateway to a new life; a free life, where a person was able to pursue his or her dreams, with honesty and integrity, and above all, without fear of persecution or undue judgement.
In this new era however, a unseen country has arisen in the wake of the digital age; a new domain for men and women, children and adults, to express themselves, to open themselves, to find themselves; and like Narnia or Hogwarts or countless other realms of fantasy and imagination, this parallel universe is accessed via a magical portal.
Well, I still think iPads and android phones are pretty magical, anyway.
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There are a lot of misunderstandings regarding self-harm, many of which have lead to ostracising behaviour and unkind prejudices. I try not to write too often about anything personal on this blog, but I was confronted with a reminder of this topic at work today, when a young girl came and spoke to me, and I could see the old, familiar white lines across her wrists and forearms.
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