Who will save the oceans my friend,
Who will fight to save the endangered?
Who will battle the darkness to find what is pure?
What strength will the rest of the world be able to draw
Without you soldier?
Who will take ***** earth and turn it into art?
Who will make victory from  awful death?
Who will fulfill the dreams of the lost one?
Who will show that we can prevail from this dark experience?
And who will stand with us, me, to find better
To find solutions.
To find others deep in madness and fashion a lifeline of hope?
By ourselves we are weak. Together we cannot be broken-dissuaded-rendered hopeless

Stand my brother. Or kneel. But whatever you do. Don't give up.

I no longer hate her choice.

I think maybe I understand

That she lost )1( freedom and )2( truth
The most important things to her

That maybe when she pulled the trigger she thought it was the only thing left. Her choice.

**** how my words , our last conversation have come to haunt me. But when I told her she had to make small choices to build up to bigger ones, I never thought she would lead with this.  

As for me, my regret is that I didn't make her feel safer. Safe to be crazy. Safe to be broken.

Not so much blame,
Bc hindsight is fifty fifty and I was Ill-equipped to know what to do and to see behind the eyes into the part of her that remainded.  

Hindsight taught me to look farther, love harder, and hold on no matter what.

But now, I can't save her.

So to all the precious souls barely hanging on this is my message: hang on.
Hang on till your nails bleed and your souls feel like they can't take anymore. Rest in my love an know there is hope. Some mental illness is just who we are. And some of it is evil. But I know we can overcome. To those who have lost truth, hold on to me and I will fight for your truth. I will fight for your mind and soul. I will fight til I bleed with you and cry out beside you and scream to God with you or for you.

There can be no life saving rope let down to you if you have already let go.


My dear one was a lot of things.
A believer in truth
A cutter
An abuser
A writer
An artist
An activist
A dreamer
Just so full of pain

But so full of hope and possibilities and potential.

I cannot believe that with all of us dreamers uniting together that we can not find cures or ways of dealing and surviving. But we must do it together and for each other and we can not do it if we do not help each other in our weaknesses and our strengths. No matter how bad it is. We can always reach out
And stop
Eachother
From falling.


Love.

There is no shame
in cancer

just like there is no shame
in mental illness.

Be strong my brother
take heart my sister

fighting against this is an honor
a badge of courage

a war wound in the battle of humanity.
Seeking truth and beauty

in a world of evil and sin.

Reaching out is a gift to give
to another

When I get done smoking this cigarette, there will be no children to look in on. No baby giggles. Two little angels won't be waiting for me on the inside. I'm alone again. I've lost my best friend. And her two babies who stole my heart. Their stuff is packed, waiting for the heart breaker to pick up.

If this was good.
If this was pure.
If this was honest.

I could be happy.

But instead I'm left waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Waiting for the implosion.
Hoping I'm wrong.
Fearing I'm right.

When you lose someone to suicide, it's hard. Its terrible. But at least they are gone.

When you lose your best friend to a fake life that she has never wanted to a new person that has changed her beyond recognition
And you have to see her "happy" life pop up on your news feed

That's a different kind of hell.

Yahweh
Will you cry with me tonight
My world broken
No end of pain in sight
Will you lift me up and grieve with me in your arms
Will you be the friend I've lost
Will you protect our babies from harm
Will you promise me again once more
That your promise is still good
That I'll again hope
That I'll one day soar.
Take me high away from pain
Or give me strength to survive this night
Promise me there is an end to this
Though there is no break from pain in sight.

Sometimes there's no explanation for suffering.
You can't reason a purpose for the last breath, bullets exploding from their chamber, or a silent exodus of a soul.

When our hearts are tortured,
When oxygen turns into an enemy instead of a reason for being alive

We search.
For purpose.
For reason.

That doesn't exist.
Not on this side.

There's no good reason for losing soul mates or hope.

Its a broken world we're traveling through.
And sometimes the cracks catch the vulnerable and the broken

Another bad break, poor luck for the luckless.

But it never stops us wondering.

Why. God. Why.