Suicide is not selfish or cowardly

I am hurting, crying. The pain is immense and overwhelming. He was such a loyal and caring friend. A dreamer and an idealist. I knew him for 18 years. One of my oldest friends.

I can’t stand when people say that suicide is cowardice and for weak people. My friend was not weak or a coward. He was just hurting in a way that we didn’t understand. I have absolutely no respect for people who say those things. How low it is to feel superior to someone who die in such tragic ways. “I would never do it”, “It’s the easy way out”. Please, shut up. Seriously, shut up. Those words are heartless and completely unnecessary. Walk a mile in their shoes and then talk. Those are the real cowards. Bad mouthing the dead. Invalidating someone’s feelings and desperation. I have heard it in person. Some guys were laughing about a suicide, mocking the person who died. I was disgusted and I voiced my disgust. I will never shut up if you say such things in my face. I will forever defend people who can no longer defend themselves.

They care too much, think too much and feel too much. They are tortured souls, like me. But medication, therapy and my support system keep me alive. I will forever be thankful for that. Not everyone has that, it’s a privilege. So I understand the ones that can’t make it. How hard it is to deal with life at times. Life can be cruel and senseless. Life can be surreal. It doesn’t make you weak or a coward, just human. Suffering and pain can affect tremendously. It twists your perception. Those who have never been suicidal or attempted suicide will never understand.

I love and miss you, J. I thought we would be friends for many years. You wanted a family and kids. You had so much to give to the world.

Image by pasja1000, courtesy of Pixabay.


Poem for J. Pt.3

Tears fall

Liquid sadness

Grief washes over me


I will never see you again

I cannot take it

I cannot grasp it

Just yesterday

We were talking

And laughing

How is this possible?

How can this be?

I miss you so much

I will miss you forever

My bohemian

And loyal friend

Picture by wenzlerdesign, courtesy of Pixabay.

Poem for J.

We met

Many years ago

Young and wild

Families torn

Shared happy

And sad times

But we overcame

Walked a 1000 miles

Side by side

I knew your pain

Or did I?

Sudden death

Fell on concrete

Shocked and confused

I don’t have you


I won’t see you


You are tango dancing

For eternity

In a heavenly Buenos Aires

Image by Marie_Bookwood, courtesy of Pixabay.


I woke up. For a few seconds, everything was okay. Then, it struck me. He is gone. My good friend.

I’m listening to Alice in Chains, one of his favorite bands. It’s comforting. My family and I are distraught. I can’t imagine how his parents are.

I feel numb and confused. It’s so hard to understand it. He was okay when we were together. Or so I thought. I don’t think it was premeditated. I think it was an impulsive action.

My mother and I went to sleep at 5 am. We couldn’t sleep. For the first time, the night’s silence was suffocating. It was pleasant at all. It was like being in the void, like it was mirroring the void and sadness we were feeling.

I feel like I have a hangover.

Message or call your friends and tell them you love them. Cherish them.

I love you all.

The hardest post I have ever written

My friend J. committed suicide tonight. We were together until 9 pm and by 9:30, he was gone.

He was the person I mention on my last post. I was the last friend to see him alive.

I feel perplexed, in disbelief and numb. Right now, as I write this, I am listening to one of his favorite bands, Pearl Jam. It’s comforting. It’s like we are still together. I am still in shock so J’m sorry if I ramble.

We were close friends, I have so many good memories of him. He was that bohemian, dreamer friend. He was kind, funny and cultured. We enjoyed walking on the beach and going to random cafés. He was a tango dancer, he just loved it.

As I write this, I keep thinking that he is alive and then I remember the traumatic event that happened yesterday. It’s a weird duality, knowing that someone is dead but forgetting about it. Only to realize, a few seconds later that it did happen, that he is no longer with us.

He was a tango dancer, he loved milongas and that scene. How I will miss him, he is a great loss for the world. He truly made the world a better place.

This could have been avoided, if only there was no mental health stigma. He had mood swings. Went from being very excited and happy, to being utterly depressed. He refused to see a psychiatrist or take medication. The stigma kills. Many people refuse to acknowledge that they have mental health conditions. They feel that doing that is accepting that they are a lesser person, that they are crazy. I’m in no way criticizing him. He had his own reality tunnel, like we all do. I wish I could’ve helped him see that there is no shame in taking medication or being diagnosed. I told him many times, when he was suffering, that he didn’t need to suffer like that. We need to put ourselves out there, for J. and other people with similar paths, and let people know that it’s okay to have a mental health condition. That it’s okay to ask for help. We need to change this paradigm. It’s slowly changing, I can see that. That gives me hope.

8 hours ago, we were having coffee and talking. We talked about life and death, oddly enough. I keep reliving those hours in my head, wondering if I said something that upset him. He said that he would go out with me after dinner, if my boyfriend was too tired. I wonder if we had gone out, would he still be alive. That is going to haunt me. It is already haunting me.

He was a free-spirit. There is something really wrong with this society that young, healthy people seal their fate this way.

I will miss him immensely. My dear companion of adventures and good days. My confidant and kindred spirit. One of the few people I know that would grab a backpack and travel to other places, completely alone. I admired his courage and independence.

In one of our last conversations, he told me he would love to go Buenos Aires and dance. I will picture him there. I will tell myself that he is in Buenos Aires, dancing with a beautiful South American girl.

Image by pixundfertig, courtesy of Pixabay.

Musings of a shut-in outside

Sitting at a patio of a café, away from the sun. People pass by. There’s a cool breeze. There’s a man sitting at the next table. He is smoking a cigarillo and enjoying the afternoon. A whisky glass keeps him company. He stares blankly ahead. Probably lost in thought, he puffs on the cigarillo. The smell is horrendous. Clouds of smoke rise in the air.

I see someone littering, it makes me mad but I’m doing the same of what’s left of my cigarettes. There are no ashtrays available, people always steal them. Folks also like to steal cups, glasses and spoons. I think it’s distasteful, to say the least.

We stop but the world doesn’t stop with us. Everything keeps going: time, people, vehicles. The sun slowly rises, until it disappears. The moon comes and takes its place. I sometimes wonder if life is like a day. Morning is childhood and teenage years; afternoon is adulthood and the night is middle age onwards. This is a complex premise. For every morning, afternoon and night is different. Just as life is different for everyone. Someone can have a rainy morning and, then comes a wonderfully sunny afternoon and a warm night.

I am awakened from my literary trance by a phone call. It’s my boyfriend. He just wanted to know if I’m okay. He asked what I was doing. “Writing”, I replied. “Is it going well?”, he inquired. I said it was. At least I’m enjoying it. Only a secular God knows if anyone will enjoy this piece.

There’s a park nearby. There’s a jumbo screen in the middle of it. People are watching a World Cup match. It doesn’t bother me, all I hear is muffled voices in the distance. I also hear bits of conversations from passers-by. Birds are chirping and there’s a relative silence from time to time. The sounds make me feel connected to the world, in a pleasant way. Everything is interconnected, so they say. And I feel it is. An enormous chain of events for every unit, of any sort, since the beginning of time. Which makes some people wonder if there is free will. Some argue that there is not, others that there is and the last group that there is, to a degree.

I see a friend in the distance. I am awake again. Time to socialize and log off.

Image by kirkandmimi, courtesy of Pixabay.