13 Reasons Why

I mean... it was only a matter of time before I wrote about this, so here we go. This post will probably contain spoilers just so you're warned.

"13 Reasons Why"... fuck.

All I knew about this show was one line of description:

It's about a girl who commits suicide and leaves cassette tapes explaining why.

Which is what it's all about really.

The writing for this show is terrible. I almost didn't continue watching after the first episode because it was so bad... but I'm a curious cat and now I've been killed.

It probably wasn't a very good idea to watch it since I've been feeling extremely suicidal again lately. To the point where I've been making plans/coming up with ideas.

Anyway...

Even though the show's script was filled with things that would be unlikely said/done, there was so much in there that was just too real. Uncomfortably real.

I was happy with the fact that they showed how stupid it is when people only seem to care once the damage has been done. How a lot of people "act" sorrowful when someone dies, even though they never appreciated the person when the person was actually there.

It reminds me of November 2013 when this girl I knew "accidentally" drove over a cliff and died; I saw her a few days before. We were supposed to go to our hometown together for the long weekend but I didn't because I had to work the day she wanted to go.

I wasn't friends with this girl. I never even talked to her at all growing up. She was one or two years younger than me but she rode my bus in elementary so I knew of her existence.

We only started talking BRIEFLY when I saw her on campus in my new town. I didn't know anyone else had moved here so that was our thing in common.

She'd come into the store I worked at every so often, by herself, and we'd talk for a little bit until I had to get back to work. I knew she felt kinda isolated like how I did. How she was feeling herself grow apart from her high school friends, and how it's hard to get close to new people.

Now, I'm not saying she killed herself. It was icy that weekend and I'm not her ghost, I wasn't there. BUT! What pissed me off was FB after her death. So many people posted about how much they loved her and missed her. So PUBLIC. So empty feeling...
I knew these people weren't giving her the love they said they were providing. I heard it from the horse's mouth!!

"The people around us are the type who post 'Happy Birthday' on everyone's walls,
But forget to ask if they have any plans for their big day.

They're the type of people who write their condolences following the appropriate

R
I
P

But don't bother bringing flowers to the grave."

I wrote that on November 12th, 2013.

That girl's death has always really angered me. I don't know many people who've died (just my Gran, Nono, and Grand dad- all in the span of two months when I was 7), but this one really pissed me the fuck off.

Anyway...

What was I saying?

Oh right, I'm happy that I'm not the only one who is maddened by people "keeping face", you know?

I also liked how in this show it showed the different ways people can view a suicide. Some people don't give a shit, some people say it's attention-seeking, some say it's the person's fault for killing them selves, some take the blame for the death, some are pissed off that the person killed themselves, etc.

Some people have said they don't support the show because it "glorifies" suicide. And to that I say, "go to hell". Suicide is suicide no matter what. Glorification of anything is based on the individual's values. It's up to the viewer to glorify something or not. AND, if all you have to say about this show is that it's bad because it glorifies something tragic, then you are absolutely fucked and missing literally all the points. You should go fucking try again at life and then get back to me.

The thing about mental health is this: you don't know unless you've experienced it.
And, even if you HAVE experienced it, you still don't know how others have experienced it; you can only understand where they're coming from a little more. So who are you to judge whether this show was over-dramatic or unrealistic or anything? Who are you to say that Hannah didn't display the signs she "should" have been displaying??

It's exactly like scientific criteria when it comes to diagnosis. If you don't check everything off, you're not sick enough. I know that it's hard to measure mental pain, but goddamnit, we're not all that stupid and cold to need PHYSICAL evidence to determine whether a girl has been deemed worthy enough to kill herself in the bathtub... are we?

*sigh*

Anyway...

It started getting hard for me to watch once I got to the first episode addressing Jessica's party.

Rape is something I can't handle, like at all. Just because it's such a confusing topic for me.

What is rape? Where are the lines? When are they really crossed?

It's a question that (in my opinion) is very complicated.

Now, before you start judging me in your head, I'm not saying that anyone who says they were raped are wrong. I'm not saying that your opinion of "what rape is" is wrong either. I'm not saying anyone is wrong. I'm merely asking questions just because it's something I wonder about a lot a lot.

Like, I understand the big things like, no means no; and you don't need to say "no" specifically, to not give consent; and that you shouldn't fuck someone who's too drunk to make an actual conscious decision.

But like, what if you're the girl and you're pretty drunk; not passed out obvi, but just like... people know you're past the point of good decisions. Say you've been talking to a guy, ALL night; not suddenly, but all night, and you've actually talked to him before even though you guys have never hung out.
He's just as drunk as you are. He kissed you a few times throughout the night, you let him squeeze your ass.
You two go back to his place, he says to come cuddle with him. You say, "Okay but I don't want to have sex." You've actually told him this all day, before you even met up with him.
He cuddles you and kisses you and you let it happen because you don't want to be impolite. You kiss back because that's what you're supposed to do... right?
He keeps kissing you and takes off your shirt and you sit up and say softly, "I said that I don't want to fuck you."
He keeps kissing your shoulders and eventually you just let it happen because now your stuck at his place, and maybe you led him on because you didn't say "no" to the kisses before, because you let him squeeze your ass. You think, maybe it's rude to not let him have sex with you now?

What about this "not taking advantage" thing though? Is it "taking advantage" if you're both at equal levels of inebriation?

Is it rape because you didn't stop it, even though you think you could've? Is it rape because they should've known you were too drunk? That they were too drunk?

Or what about if you can't remember a situation starting because you were so drunk? What if you only remember a guy pounding into you for a flash of a second, and you wonder how you got there and you wonder how this started happening... is that rape? You don't remember ever asking for this guy to smash you, but you don't remember saying no either... Hell, you don't even remember going into his bedroom with him.

Or what if you were at someone's house for your boyfriend's birthday party with people you both don't know and you're 95% sure you were drugged by said strangers because you only had one drink but were completely wasted and because they kept pressuring you to drink said drink.
And because, eventually, at the end of the night, you had no idea where you were.
What if you laid down next to someone who was very drunk while your boyfriend waited for you in the car because you needed to get the purse that you thought you left inside when actually the purse was beside you, in the car the entire time.
What if you thought you were at home with your boyfriend on the couch so you kissed the person laying there. And they you kissed back. And you realized that it wasn't your boyfriend. But then things started happening and your brain for some reason wouldn't send the signals to stop it, even though you wanted it to stop. Is that rape?

Is this all your fault? Because you made stupid decisions that put yourself into bad situations??

What if your boyfriend sticks his dick in you after you told him "no" and tried pushing him away? Is that rape? Because there's been times where you say "no" and push him away, but eventually you're into it and actually have a good time. Are you sending mixed signals? Is that your fault, or is that rape?

Or your boyfriend gets on top of you and starts trying to fuck you but it hurts because you're not turned on, and you don't want it, but he tells you that it's "okay" because he'll "go slow". If that rape? Because you gave up fighting and just let it happen you know...
One time he even got mad and got off of you because you "weren't getting wet anyway"... is it rape if they don't finish? Is it rape if it's your boyfriend?

Tell me, because I have no idea. It seems that one could do so much to have avoided these situations:

You could've not gotten so drunk, you could've been firmer with your "no"s, you could've not just "let it happen", you could've tried harder to make your brain send those signals, or maybe you could've kept a closer eye on your drink...

Is this your fault? Did you let this happen?
Are you okay? Have you been raped?

Is it only rape if you call it rape?

Btw, I'm 100% not putting blame anywhere NEAR the victim, okay? I'm still just asking about where the lines are.

Anyway...

Jessica's rape scene bothered me. But HANNAH'S? With that one I eventually had to close my eyes and turn down the volume.
You can see the exact moment where she dissociates from her body. That look on her face... that look where she just seems like a lifeless corpse... that was too real for me. That was too haunting.

After that, I thought the last couple episodes would be fine. NOTHING, could bother me more than that. NOTHING.

Except... I didn't think that they'd show her suicide... I didn't think it would seem so real.

I've only really tried attempting suicide twice.

There's been times where I've sat down, READY to attempt, but just... didn't? I guess?
There's been times where I've cut myself praying to god that it'd be enough to kill myself.

But there has only been two times when I've done things with the sole purpose of ending my life.

The first one was when I took 6-7 Ativan with a two-six of straight Sambuca. I also took a handful of my anti-anxiety meds (venlafaxine, 150 mg) because idk, I just wanted all the pills ever made to be in my system. But then BB found me (not knowing how many pills I took, not knowing about the AMOUNT of Samba in my system) and brought me to bed.

The second one was last May. And that was the most real one. Because it was a decision made sober, and it was the closest I've ever gotten to death it felt.

Stuff happened and I thought. I stopped for a minute and thought. I weighed out the options. Then I took a deep breath and was like, "Okay. This is it. Today, I kill myself."

The reason the tub scene in the show triggered me so much was because it was exactly what I did in May.

I cleaned up some shit, I put on some old clothes I didn't care about, I filled the tub, I looked in the mirror at myself, making sure that it was the right decision...

The only difference was that I didn't have a new box of razor blades. I had an old razor head that I broke apart to get to one of the teeny tiny blades. That's probably why I'm still here honestly. Because, even though I was using a small blade, even though it was dull as fuck... those cuts were big, and I lost a lot of blood. The water was fucking black.

Anyway...

Since that attempt, things have been different. It's weird waking up the next morning after an attempt like that. It's weirder going outside the apartment for the first time after.
The amount of emptiness you feel is astounding.
I remember it so clearly.

I had to go drop off the keys at Le Chateau because I was fired for not going to work... because I was trying to kill myself lol
It was such a sunny day.
BB was driving because I was really not present, I swear to god.
I was wearing black baggy pants, and a navy blue button up to cover my arms. It was like +20 degrees Celsius btw... yet I felt no warmth.

We were driving and BB was trying to make me smile. He was playing "Hotel California", a favourite of ours. He put down the windows and opened the sun roof. He wiggle-danced away and sang out of tune... trying to make me smile.

I was curled up in my seat; hugging my knees; peeking out the window at the world in front of me.

The world was still going on. How could this be? I was so confused. So broken. So fucking empty...

Did you know I had to clean up my own blood from the bathroom? I mean... no one else should've had to but still... it's a weird sensation.

I haven't taken a bath since then. And bath tubs make me uneasy, I don't trust myself around them.

I can't watch tv shows with too much blood anymore, I can't watch someone be cut open.

Even when I cut myself now a days, I get triggered by the blood. I start to panic and start to feel dizzy. I start dissociating... it's fucking weird.

So when Hannah was sat in the tub. My heart started pounding.
I lived that moment. The moment just before you begin... there's so much built up inside of you... you're going to do this... this is the exact spot where you're going to die.

And then she cut the first time.

So fucking deep. Length-wise like you're supposed to do.
She winced in pain and the blood poured out rushed to the surface, pouring out.
But she didn't stop.
She cut again beside it.
Just as deep.

That's where I turned it off.
I just couldn't watch myself in that fucking bath tub.
It was too painful.
I felt like I was there.
I felt everything I felt last year...


The show is poorly written; yes.
But it does provide education.

Which is terrible, because no one should have to be educated about suicide.
The world shouldn't be how it is.

No one should know how to fucking kill themselves. Because no one should want to kill themselves.
No one should know what it's liked to be raped. Because no one should be raped.
These things shouldn't fucking exist and it hurts my heart so goddamn much.

I am scarred from myself. I am triggered from the show.

I've never seen such real scenes before... I wish I didn't.

I wish I didn't watch this show.
It wasn't good for me.

It just wasn't.

- Mint.

I just wanted to say that I think I'm getting over BB.

I think about him way less often, and only when I'm really sad do I feel like I "need" him. But even then, I know it's not him I need because he sucks lol he's not who I build him up to be.

So yeah, just an update.

- Mint.

Dial 1-800-Cyanide line.

Hi!

This is a three part post:

PART 1

I'm still here!

I've found that when I'm alone, my depression skyrockets. But if I'm with someone, it's muted.

That being said, this week has been better.

However, the past few mornings, a collections company has been harassing my mom in regards to a situation I put myself in aboutttttt, 3 years ago.

That one time I was delivering drugs to the stupid guy I gave my virginity to. That one time I parked just a tad too quick and scratched his car a little bit. LOL

THIS IS WHAT THE MATTER IS REGARDING.

I SCRATCHED A DUDE'S CAR LIGHTLY, AND THEN GAVE HIM FREE DRUGS. AND HE HAS THE NERVE TO CALL THE INSURANCE COMPANY ON ME?

So stupid...

Anyway, every time they call it ruins my day. It ignites the fiery pit of anxiety that I have in my stomach, and it doesn't burn out for hours. Their calls make me want to go to my room and slit my throat. I have to actively tell myself not to. I just want to escape so fucking badly...

I haven't felt this trapped in a long time.

PART 2

I'm feeling rather conflicted lately.
I'm doing things and thinking things and creating things that I'm really liking.
I'm listening to music I'm digging. I'm talking and acting in a way I'm enjoying.

But I feel bad because I feel like I'm projecting a person I'm not? Like, I'm feeling as if I'm acting fake, while at the same time I feel so me. Like more me than I've ever been.
How is that possible?
I feel like a wannabe lmao but I'm not "wanting-to-be" anything.

Here, I'll give you an example...

As I'm working on my art, I've been listening to hip hop/rap/and like, idk, "chill trap"? This is different because I normally only listen to indie, like: Oh Wonder, Vance Joy, and Lana Del Rey.

The vibe I'm working with is like really relaxed, summer hazed beats. Like... you're driving around LA and the sun is just starting to fall and the city is flipping from day to night mindset... and it's a Friday and you have plans to go out to a dope club and you're low-key excited. And there's good smells of BBQ in the air. And you're driving the cheapest, shittiest, red convertible you could get your hands on, your hair is swirling around like it's under water and there are gold highlights sparkling within it. You're listening to the radio and all the good songs are playing. You feel a tinge of nostalgia but it's in the background, and it's not making you feel sad. You're balanced, you're grounded. You feel all euphoric and free and everything's right in the world.

That's what I'm trying to produce in my art; I'm trying to recreate the sun flare that's in the image I just described.

Examples of the feel would be found in 1 800 Suicide (Gravediggaz), Xxplosive (Dr. Dre), and Alfa Romero (AG & Ray West).

Anyway, long story short, I'm obsessed with this feeling. Like... obSESSED. I want to bathe in these waves, I want to smoke the colours they bleed, I want BE the beat.

But I stand back and I'm like, Mint! You are literally the whitest girl in the world. Last year you didn't even know what a "whip" was. You had to ask what "the trap" was. LOL LIKE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M SAYING?

I feel dumb but I can't help it... it's oozing out of every pore on my body. I'm wearing Adidas with tights and long shirts as dresses, men's oversized button-ups and black baseball caps.

Hobo-hoe: 90s grunge meets a Parisian hooker from the 60s.

**I tried to make a mood board explaining it**

I just wish that I knew whether or not this is like... a part of me, or something I've just picked up and am trying to morph into; an unstable self-image is a symptom of BPD, so it's hard to tell what's real and what's not when it comes to my definition of who I feel I am.

Ugh, I don't even know how to explain what I'm trying to explain.

I want to live within the movie of Spring Breakers. That's the closest to anything I can think of right now; a gangsta sweetheart. LANA DEL REY. Fuck, I wish I could explain it...

PART 3

My creativity is coming out in fragments; not in like a bad way. It's just I get little snippets in my head of what I want to create but it's undeveloped and I sometimes get stuck. Or I have a grand idea and don't know how to execute it. But I'm working on it, and I think that's pretty cool.

Everything's coming together and I'm forming a brand within my head and it's weird.

For example, my poems have been fragments, not fully formed. I'll have like two lines, and that's it. Because of this, I can do a lot with it if you think about it.

I can take this one line and develop it into lyrics of a song, or grow it into a fully formed poem. Or, I could take the one-liner and put it on a shirt, with an image I painted behind it. Or, I could take the idea within the fragment, and translate it into an image. The image could be abstract, to express the feeling within the line. Or it could express the sound the line would have as a song. Do you get what I'm saying?

I'm getting fragments in the forms of feelings, words, colours, and sounds.

I really enjoy it, but sometimes it's overwhelming because you just end up in a sea of emotions. Half the time I feel high because of the colours blending in my brain; like I'm in a dream somewhere else.

My goal is to take these feelings and make something tangible out of them; so others can feel it too, you know? I guess that's what art is in a nutshell lol

My notebooks, sketch books, iPad/iPhone notes, desktop and mind are all filled with these tiny pieces. It's like someone took a dozen puzzles and dumped all the pieces into one big pile. It's my job to sort through them and put them back together, without knowing what any of the puzzles are supposed to look like. It's exhausting!!

BUT, it's a project. And I'm really enjoying the progression I've been making with it. I can feel my mind thinking differently. I can feel my creativity taking over, finally being able to breathe deep, meaningful breaths.

So weird how one can be so sad, but so mellow at the same time.

- Mint.

Please don't think less of me.

These past (almost) two weeks I've been busy frantically creating.

I decided I want a life where I'm my own boss or some shit? I can't remember, I've just been making crap with the hopes of selling it.

Anyway, I think it was all just a mini manic phase because yesterday, for seemingly no reason at all, I fell into a huuuuge fucking pit of despair.

I feel so fucking numb it's annoying.

I hate BB. I hate that I met him so that my mind can think about him; and I hate how he can manipulate me without even being fucking present. I hate the feeling of happiness because it's always followed with disappointment, embarrassment, loneliness, resentment, and all the negative emotions that I really don't need to list.

The one thing he was good at though was grounding me.

When I was with him, I never binged and rarely did I ever slip up and self-harm.

When I was with him I made sure I was human, I made sure I looked after myself, I made sure to go outside of my comfort zone.

All of that is shit without him.

I'm angry because I'm fucking fat. Because my mother is a goddamn fucking Italian wind-sign who has no structure.

I feel so... out of control.

Which is weird and petty of me to say because I have a really easy life, and I'm really lucky to have such a caring and understanding mother, but FUCK.

BB is an earth sign and he's grounded as fuck. Instead of snacking all day like my mother, he would have actual MEALS. So that meant there was no snack food. OR, if there was, he would make it last and he would make sure I didn't fucking devour it all.

He was always there, and would sit me down and have these talks with me when I was getting too sad, or if I was getting worked up and angry he would just hold me until I calmed down.

Here, I'm on my fucking own. I have no one I can talk to without feeling like I'm an annoying self-centred brat who only cares about themselves. I feel stupid saying the same things over and over, knowing full well what I need to do to fix my problems, but also at the same time, knowing I don't have the ability/strength to fix them.

BB is a jerk and I fucking hate him, but at least I wasn't fat, and at least I had a reason not to cut when I was with him.

Yes, cut. Last night I found out that the reason I was only able to make stupid tiny kitty-cat scratches was because I was using an incredibly dull blade. I found this out when I found a new blade and tried it the fuck out. It makes me feel a little better... which I know is stupid; but when one self-harms and ends up with tiny "nothings", one feels pathetic and weak.

But nowwwwwww, I'm back in business. Which is bad, because I'm numb, and when you're numb and don't care about anything, it makes it hard to stop.

I just kept going and going (cutting really puts you in a trance), but then I'd pull out of it and get scared of myself because all I could smell was blood after awhile, and I have to be careful not to get too crazy. I can't just hack away anywhere; I need to be careful with placement.

I still haven't cut too, too deep though; just deep enough now where the blood takes awhile to fill up the opening, you know?

A stupid thing I did though was make 10 tiny cuts on my wrist; like, on the sides of it.

I don't really know why, I think I did it because I was trigger happy in a sense, I just wanted to go ham. I really did.

BUT, it was dumb because now I have to hide them.

Another reason as to why I'm unhappy living with my mother is because I've gotta stay alive.

I would never want my mom to be the one to find me dead. I wouldn't want to be "under her care" (so to speak) at the time of me killing myself. It's quite annoying really.

At least with BB it was obviously his fault for pushing me over the edge. That doesn't sound nice but I mean it's true in a sense. Last May was because I found out that everything was a lie and that I was exactly all the bad things I always thought I was, and that BB was only using me, and that I'm an unlovable piece of shit. So why stay present when you find out that the person you love more than ANYTHING in this whole entire fucking WORLD, is cheating on you and doesn't give a fuck? Well, if you're me, the answer is, "suicide".

Like, there's an actual "reason" for it. As opposed to me being here, seemingly not having a care in the fucking world, you know? Why the fuck would I want to kill myself while living here? Other than  the classic, stereo-typical answers from outside by-standers such as: selfish, self-centred, attention-seeking, idiot.

There's no reason. So if I were to die, it'd need to be an accident that I openly took, or I'd have to not be living under this roof.

It's stupid, I'm stupid, I know.

ANYWAY, long story short:

I'm fat, I'm self-harming, I'm numb, I'm sad, I'm past the manic phase, I'm lonely, I'm dreaming of suicide, I hate BB, and I hate myself.

xxx

💕 kisses! 💕

✌🏻✌🏻

- Mint.