Raging at Specters and Hobgoblins

When will the world spin at a better angle?

I'm so hellishly tired of hearing stories of wonderful young people taking their lives.

And I fucking loathe trying to write through a veil of tears.

Don't you do it.

Not a single fucking one of you.

Don't you dare take your life.

You get on a damn phone and call somebody.

Get on a computer and throw out a line, baby.

Someone will pick it up.

It does fucking get better.

I know.
I know.
I used to be right where you are.
I cut.
I did all kinds of shit.
And somehow I hung on and it fucking got better.
Please, please don't give up.
Don't leave us all here, with giant YOU shaped holes in our chests, bleeding all over the fucking world because you didn't just say to us look at me. I'm being sliced to ribbons inside.
Say those things.
There's not a chance you'll go unanswered.
Somebody cares.
I care.
Dammit, don't you dare.
Cause if you do?
You'll break so many hearts.
You'll break them in ways that will never heal cleanly, baby.

We will miss you.
And I'll be mopping my heart's blood up off my fucking floor for years dammit.
You're another friend I didn't get to have, and another bright place in the world gone dark.

And my heart fucking hurts.