Content Warning: Discussing suicide.
Yep, you did read that right. A man who I’d never met – some random dude on the internet – told me to kill myself. You probably won’t find that funny, but as I sit here with the #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek blog I forgot to post, and also my rebuttal to #13ReasonsWhy, I did find it funny.
I have been feeling SHIT recently. Nothing has been wrong. My relationship has been fine. I’m not lacking in confidence, despite putting on a couple of pounds (and then losing them again, thankfully). I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m going to assume that moving home, struggling financially a little because of that move, and then adjusting to living with not just my new fella, but also his teenage son, has played its part on my mental health. Plus, Bear has some health stuff going on. That’s most definitely another story for another day.
I’m okay, I’m just having a few “off” days. I’m a tad stressed sometimes. That’s all. I’m struggling a little bit, but just every now and again. Most of the time I’m just fine.
But this cunt wasn’t to know that, was he? What if I were having the worst day, and his post genuinely did make me kill myself? Or “Kill” as a few people pointed out. He was that sure of his advice that I should top myself, he capitalised the word. Blimey. That really was said with some gumption. You really are a cunt, Jeff.
I suffer with anxiety and depression. I get stressed out super easy, and I have tendency to cry over everything. Sometimes I don’t wash my hair for days, even weeks on end, and I have been known to go two or three days without showering, particularly if I don’t need to face anyone. I don’t leave the house from one week to another, made easier because I work from home, and although I’m quite content with my little life, I know it’s not right. It’s not “normal”. I’m not “normal”.
For one brief moment this morning, after I read that disgusting comment left by that equally disgusting “man”, I pondered my own worth. I’m a strong person now. A strong person who suffers from crippling anxiety, admittedly, but I am strong. I know that. Shit doesn’t get me down now that would have gotten me down a few years back. In fact, a few years back, if I’d read that comment from Jeff* I probably would’ve burst into tears.
*If that’s even his real name. Cowards like that usually hide behind a false name because they are just that – cowards.
I didn’t burst into tears today though. Instead, I laughed. I laughed because I’ve come so far from the seriously depressed self-harmer I was all those years back – the girl who would have been affected by those words. I laughed because those words bounced right off me. They dented the surface a little, for a brief spell of time, but that’s it. They’re just words. Words that would once have had me running and hiding under my duvet with shame, wondering whether or not I should give up my writing habit, whether I’m even a “writer” at all.
I’ve long since come to understand that I can’t please everyone. This is MY blog. These are MY views. They aren’t ALWAYS going to be the same as someone else’s. People WON’T always agree with me. Someone will always misinterpret me, just like that time with that beauty blogger, and someone will always argue with what I have to say. I understand all of that, I appreciate all of that. I get over it and move on, whether they try to start a hashtag hate campaign against me or not. I welcome comments. I love reading them. I love hearing the other side of the argument, letting my mind be swayed by the real-life experiences of others. I love that. That’s one of the biggest reasons I love blogging – there are so many true, unbiased opinions. In a world of false facts and news, I think these true and unbiased opinions should be cherished. At last we know they’re real.
At the same time, however, I HATE blogging. I HATE putting my views out there for someone to read and disagree with, and that’s why 99% of the time, I’m entirely anonymous. People don’t know who I am. They don’t know what I do. I like it that way. I prefer it that way. It’s easier to have a strong defence mechanism when you’re hiding behind a pseudonym. It’s not me that Jeff was talking too, it was Mollie. And we all know that Mollie and I aren’t the same person. I mean, we are, but I wouldn’t talk about the things I do if it weren’t for that level of anonymity to protect me. The world is a cruel and nasty place, and as someone who was bullied throughout school, and long after that, I’m all for protecting myself.
I’ve wondered all day what I would say to this “man” if I could. I’ve tapped out words and deleted them again, debating between not giving this cretin the time of day, and outing him for the entire world to see what a total piece of shit he is. But what kind of blogger would I be if I didn’t blog about something so serious as someone saying to me, “Kill yourself!”
Capital K. Exclamation point.
Jesus, Jeff. Why are you such a cunt?
Jeff, I think you need a good hug. To say those words to someone – to tell someone to go and kill themselves – well, you’ve got to be a special kind of person to say something like that. You’ve got to be a special kind of person to even think something like that. I’ve never thought that. I’ve never wished someone dead. I’ve never told someone to go and kill themselves. Do you know why, Jeff? It’s because I’m not a cunt.
I think you might need a little help. I’d love to be the kind of person to wish you some bad – to wish you dead in return – but I’m not. I wouldn’t wish anyone dead, not even you. I don’t think you deserve to die. I think you deserve to see humanity as it really is – good. Well, it’s good when people like you finally see some sense. You will. One day you will. One day you will need someone so badly and for once, that person won’t let you down. Your faith in humanity will be restored, and you’ll think back over all those bad things you said to people, and all the hurt and bad you wished on people, and you’ll feel bad about them. You’ll be disgusted by the words you used. Or, at least, I hope you will be. If you don’t feel guilt and remorse, there’s no hope for you. I feel bad for you, son. You’ve got 99 problems and you’re all of them.
For the record, Jeff, the post you commented on was written in 2013 – it is over four years old. I am four years older than the twenty-something GIRL I was then. I’m now a WOMAN in my early thirties. And, for the record once again, I quit drinking. The drinking, and turning into a monster when I was drinking, was a sign of deeper rooted problems. I realised that eventually, and rectified the issue. I quit drinking. Killing myself would have been unnecessary, but I do appreciate your assistance. Don’t you see, Jeff? I didn’t need your help. I solved my own problem. The only question is, will you solve yours? Are you as smart as I was? When was the last time you had a drink, Jeff? Huh? Did you need the drink to make you braver to send the comment in the first place?
Bet that fucking stings a bit, eh? 😉
One day, Jeff, you’re going to say those words to someone who will truly be impacted by them. It won’t be me today though, because I’m smarter, stronger, and clearly a much more stable person than you are. Stable-minded people don’t go around telling strangers on the internet to commit suicide. I could probably report you to the cops. I do have an email and IP address for you after all … Screenshotted.
But, Jeff, if you go throwing around suicide suggestions on the internet, you must be prepared for the day that someone really does commit suicide. I bet that doesn’t lie on your conscious well, and I’m sure the digital internet paper trail you leave will lead the police directly to your house. After all, one of the last emails in that blogger’s email inbox would be a comment from you, telling that blogger to commit suicide … Bet your mama would be so proud.
God, Jeff, why are you so dumb??
Be careful, Jeff, because one day the person on the receiving end of your suicide-trolling won’t be as strong-minded as me. They won’t know that you’re just a cunt whose opinion is insignificant. They won’t sit at their laptop and tap out a shitty blog post rebuttal like I will, instead choosing to lock themselves in the bathroom and tear through their skin with a dirty razor blade.
I mean, c’mon. Haven’t you seen #13ReasonsWhy?
Seriously, Jeff, why are you so dumb?
Oh, and in case you wanted to know what I wrote in return, this is it:
Hahaha thanks, Jeff! Your comment was incredibly constructive on a post that was written … oh, only four years ago. I was in my twenties then, by the way, I’m now older, wiser and smarter. You’ll see that if you’ve read the rest of the blog, which I’m assuming you haven’t.
Enjoy your day, thanks for spending the time to read my blog, and then for commenting ?
From the sick, twisted bitch x