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Blogger, full-time bum and proud owner of a rubber duck named Bert. Come say hi. I don't bite. Unless you're a cheesecake, then I'd recommend backing away slowly.

Thursday, 24 February 2011

Reach out

Friends aren't helping friends out when they need them. 

It's just an observation I've made over the past few months. I can't really get my head around it... Why wouldn't you help your friend if their hurting? If they fell over and twisted their ankle, would you leave them on the floor? If they were drowning, would you not try to rescue them? If they were getting beat up, would you not try to intervene?
Why should emotional pain be taken any less seriously than physical pain?

A friend told me and another friend that she attempted to commit suicide last year. Casually, just added it into conversation. And do you want to know what my other friend did? 

He laughed.

And then, you see celebrities like Lily Allen, losing their babies, and people making jokes about it. What sort of evil human being does that? You may not know her personally, but she just lost her baby for god's sake. Show a little a respect.

You see countless tweets on twitter:
"Mega depressed for no reason. feel like everyone on twitter is just ignoring me.."
"I feel so empty right now.."
"Hate my mom. Hate my life! Wish i would just die now. Save me and everyone else the trouble."
No replies. Not one. 


If they tweeted about a film, or music, or even Peanut butter, they would have got a reply. They would have probably got a conversation.


But this is their life, this is their "selfish tweets" where they are just wanting "attention".


Well you know what? They are not selfish for wanting to be happy. They are not wanting attention. They are wanting to get rid of this mood that has been depressing them for god knows how long and, as a friend, or a follower, or a human being, it is your duty to help them out. 


I was really badly depressed for the past two Fridays (the mood broken only by a trip out with Halle and Ross) and I would tweet about it. Or at least, try to. 


I kept deleting words, letters, sentences... none of it made sense. Why was I feeling so bad? I don't know. Why don't you get help? I don't know. Why don't you just send that damn tweet and stop being such a wimp? That I do know.


I didn't want to be labelled as an emo.


I know the stigma... I'm not blind to society's evil nature. Their cruel, mistimed jokes. Their praying on the weak. Their praising the strong. I know of them. I don't want to feed their horrific obsession with gossip.


This blog is like my diary. You know that I will hide parts of my life from you, but I would never lie to you. I will try to tell you as much secrets as I can handle typing and you can handle knowing. But It's hard sometimes. Especially when it feels like no-one is listening.


307 followers. I think I got one reply.


And that's why, we all hide our emotions behind a smile. No-one cares.


Or at least, It feels that way.


So please. Please. If you see someone that seems to be in a bad mood, ask them what's wrong. Who knows, You might be able to make them feel better.


Restore my faith in humanity.

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