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*The following paragraph contains graphic descriptions of two tragic and unnecessary deaths. If you are sensitive to these things, spare yourself and read no further. I cut no bones about the details, because people need to see what can happen when we ignore people with real issues and feed healthy kids huge doses of ritalin. This blog is pretty much my own therapy, but feel free to read it. Maybe you can make a difference for someone that will be just big enough to save them from themselves.*
**I know this is unnatrually depressing for your favourite perky goth. This was written by a dear friend just a few days before she passed away in December. She took her own life. She tortured herself to death, quite literally. She mutilated her own vagina with a curling iron, cauterizing her body parts off beyond repair. She had third degree burns on various other part of her anatomy, including her arms, stomach and face. When her 31-year-old sister found her body, her face was so destroyed with razor slashes and burns she was unudentifiable on sight. Approximately a week before her suicide, her boyfriend died from a drug overdose. He mixed too many powerful drugs and gave himself a massive coronary...at age 19. She was high on crystal meth and heroin based ecstasy at the time and laid in his arms for nearly five hours following his death without realizing it. She lost her mind, snapped completely, and the mental health industry did not take her seriously. Because she was a known cutter, neither did her family. They did not believe she meant her suicide threats and chalked it up to the grieving process. She was realeased from psychiatric care less than 72 hours after being admitted. This was mostly because she had no health insurance. She had turned 18 less than a month before. She was a promising ballet dancer and one of the most pure-hearted people I have ever had the privilage to know. I have known her since she was in pre-school and considered myself her older sister. We laugh and make fun of emo kids. We treat them like jokes. I am as guilty of it as the rest of you. But when the joke becomes serious, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and lifelong friends suffer. Seroius emotional problems are being masked by a trend and ignored. We've turned everything into a pathology, something to be fixed with the latest prescription, and we ignore the pain that causes this shit. It's sickening. I overidentify with Gina. This could have been me. I have made a lot of the same negative choices in life that she had. I have lost someone I loved dearly to a drug overdose. I know that your mind dances around the edges of sanity far too often, and far too painfully. This could have been any of us, in the wrong time and place and state of mind. Its a beautiful poem.**
Do I?
by Gina Day (22 Nov 1991- 11 Dec 2009)
or...anyone who loves and lives...
Do I run you deep? Do I suffocate?
Do I tear? Do I break?
They turn, light from the rot of me.
My blessing, my curse...
Every time I thought it could not get worse.
And then I know and I scream.
Do I believe? Do I listen to the pretty lie?
Do I even have the strength left in me to cry?
They run, repulsed, from their addiction.
My sin, my weakness...
That damns me to emptiness.
Love, the musings of demented fiction.
Do I sense? Do I somehow see?
Do I in my heart seek those who torture me?
They die, I am not enough gravity.
My life, my blood...
This child is not able to play God.
I breathe with yet more brevity.
Do I move? Do I find it within me to hate?
Do I become the monster they try to create?
They pretend to want to follow.
My demons, my angels...
Trapping me inside my mind's secret hell.
But in the end, my soul is hollow.
