A Conversation Held In Solitude.

I rarely post anymore because I’m constantly growing as a person day in and day out.  I always look back to yesterday, to the week before to ten years back and so on.  I constantly seek to improve myself and sometimes it’s out of vanity. Society and its social constructs are both wonderful and dangerous things.  They tell us how to think and act which is great for the morality of society but also steals from the individuality of the person.

It’s when I look at the world everyday, I wonder how I’ll live, what I’ll experience and what the purpose of it all is.  Some days I don’t entertain the question and simply enjoy every moment for everything it has to offer. The sights, sounds, smells, and the feels both physical and emotional.  People don’t enjoy life like they should be able to, they live in the monotony of society and get caught up in the rush.  People learn the ‘important’ lessons in life the hard way, the way their lifestyle dictates to them all because they don’t take the time to actually experience life, they simply live it.

If everyone just enjoyed life and looked at it from time to time by each and every moment that they lived, they would become wiser faster than learning life’s wisdom by a forced course.  Experiencing life opens one’s eyes, ears and heart to what is important and necessary to be happy.  But no one takes the time to really do that and as a result the wisdom they acquire is a direct result of maturity and age.  Wisdom does come with age and maturity but there are a lot of people who learn things at a much younger age.

The only people on this planet that ever learn life’s real hardships and wisdom are the ones who suffer the most.  The ones who second guess themselves and everything they believe.  Their self-confidence shattered, wearing a facade that everyone else sees.  Acting how society dictates in order to be accepted, or forever rejected for being different.  They experience the death of themselves, the death of identity, the death of purpose.  Unfortunately society can’t understand these people because they don’t live as if their life is fragile and unique.  Everything is taken for granted, their abilities, looks and situation.  

And though this conversation is just one of many to myself, I ask the question: Where do you fit? Is your life worth something or do you live in vanity?  I challenge myself everyday for that purpose, to see if I am worth something because if I don’t I will become who I used to be…

Depression is a cry for attention from someone who doesn’t want to be noticed

I don’t think the average person understands just how difficult it is for someone suffering from depression to talk about it. How deep the fears go. The fear that the average person will either dismiss what the sufferer feels, to misunderstand, to belittle, or the worst: reject them for reaching out.

The sufferer always worries that what they need to talk about will seem so little to someone else, so unworthy of worry. One person’s mountain is another person’s mole hill.

But sometimes, for some people, mountains are insurmountable.

Even worse is when the sufferer finds someone they can talk to when they’re at their worst … and knowing that eventually, they’ll use them up.

And then they do. And then they’re gone. And the sufferer has no one to blame … but themselves.

No one wants to be a burden on someone else, especially someone with depression. The sufferer doesn’t want to drown the person trying to save them, or find out one day that when they reach out, that person is no longer willing to listen because the sufferer is just once again going through the ‘same old thing’, not realizing that this ‘same old thing’ is really just a way of life for someone with depression.

Depression is an ongoing game of hide and seek. Hiding true feelings when someone asks how they are doing, while desperately leaving just enough clues about how badly off they really are in hopes that someone will care enough to seek out what’s really going on.

And then there’s the shame. The sufferer’s shame in knowing that they’re not normal, that they’re broken, that nothing has been able to fix them. Shame in knowing that they should feel happy, but for some reason, they can’t. The shame of not knowing why.

And, especially for the adult sufferer, the shame of needing help.

It’s so much easier to be alone. To suffer in silence. To put on a brave face and just reply that you’re ‘fine’ whenever someone asks how you are doing. When you’re alone, you can’t hurt someone else. I don’t think anyone with depression wants to give it to someone else or wants to hurt someone else; I think that’s something they fear more than anything.

The sufferer would rather hurt themselves than hurt someone else. Because even if they don’t think they’re important to that someone, that someone is important to them.

And maybe they’ll do bad things that the average person cannot understand. Maybe they’ll find a razor blade and quickly slash it across their skin in hopes that the physical pain will drown out the mental anguish. Maybe they’ll do it to punish themselves; because why would anyone have bad thoughts unless they are a bad person?

Maybe they’ll do it because it’s easier, better than asking a friend to talk to them.

Maybe they’ll do it because they want someone to notice that they feel so badly on the inside that they’ve made it visible on the outside.

And the sufferer will end up feeling even more ashamed. Because they know they can’t do anything right. They can’t do anything ‘normal’.

It’s hard to talk to someone with depression; it’s hard not to just brush them off and tell them that everything will be okay, that they just need to cheer up. It’s equally hard for the sufferer to hear these things. To have what they’re feeling, that which is hurting them so badly, dismissed as nothing more than just a phase they need to ‘snap out of.’

If it was that easy, if all a person had to do was cheer up and snap out of it, why then would anyone have depression?

Depression is a cry for attention from someone who doesn’t want to be noticed. Depression is a soul-crushing blackness that’s hard to attribute to anything. Sufferers can laugh and still feel like they’re dying. Sufferers can have close friends that they love and still believe that the best thing they can do for these people they care so much about is to just disappear. That the greatest gift they can give someone is to remove themselves from their lives and no longer hold them back.

Sufferers don’t always feel, or are able to accept, that anyone could possibly like them, or that they could be important to someone else. How could anyone possibly love someone like them? They’re damaged goods.

And damaged goods aren’t useful to anyone. Damaged goods are just taking up space. Damaged goods need to be discarded.

The sufferer doesn’t always want to die so much as they want to live, just not like this.

Suicide is the greatest selfish gift the sufferer can give. The sufferer doesn’t want to be a burden all the while knowing that all they want is for someone, maybe a specific someone, someone they’ve tied their heart to, someone they’ve opened their soul to, to just hold them and tell them that you know things aren’t okay right now, but someday, they will be. To tell them that while they may not understand, they want to. To tell them that they’re too important to lose. To tell them that they’ll try to help, and mean it. To help them try to believe you.

Someone suffering from depression is afraid of snuffing out the light of hope by pulling it too close, holding onto it too tightly, needing it too much, loving it too much, until finally, one day, they open their hands and find that the light has gone out.

Because, guaranteed, it’s happened before. Maybe more than once. Maybe more than ten times. Maybe every light they’ve reached out for has been snuffed out in their hands.

And they feel they have no one else to blame but themselves. It’s always their fault. It’s always because they’re broken. The next light they see may be the one they’re finally afraid to reach out to, because they’ve detsroyed so much already.

They feel they are nothing but an infection in the life of someone meaningful and, sometimes, the only cure for an infection is for it to be cut out. And tossed away.

No one misses an infection. No one will miss the person spreading their disease, even when they don’t know that they are. No one will miss the gray cloud that always ruins the sunny day.

Not everyone understands that even gray clouds might long for the sun.

All the sufferer wants is to be normal. Praying to a god they have no reason to believe in for something to change. Longing to feel what the average person feels. To know what happiness may be. To just not hurt anymore for no reason at all. To finally no longer be a burden. To accept that most times, the answers the sufferer so desperately needs are not the answers they’re going to hear. To be able to change their questions. To not second-guess their answers.

The answers that the friend of a sufferer needs is that whenever you may hate them the most, that’s when someone with depression needs you more than ever.

And the sufferer will hate themselves for needing you more than you’ll ever know.


The Innovation of Loneliness by Shimi Cohen

Are you lonely? Us too.

This bright and smartly written motion design project argues that maybe our social networks are to blame.


Kuala Lumpur Day-Night by Rob Whitworth

5 months. 400 hours of solid work. 4 cameras. 40 shoots. 640 gigabytes of data. 19,997 photographs, all combined to form one incredible time lapse.


story(us) by Already Alive

Stories bring us together, allowing us to relate to one another on a most basic, human level. What better way to capture the full scope of an event than by telling it from as many perspectives as possible?

A Fleeting Moment

Another Saturday night has come and gone.  At least some of my time these days is spent with friends, people who I can be myself around and trust.  They’re what keeps me going, because honestly, I can’t keep going without them.  Life loves bringing me to my knees and frankly I’m not able to get back up anymore.  It’s taken a great toll on me and if weren’t for friends I’d still be on my knees.  I have to keep moving forward and let go of those ‘what ifs’ because they become fleeting moments, moments where I try to grasp the impossible and let them slip through my fingers.  It’s time I start grabbing my real dreams, to seize the opportunities before me and fulfill my destiny.  

This is my time…


Right now my life is a bit peculiar at the moment.  I had an epiphany a few months back and since then I have undergone many changes, spiritually, emotionally, mentally and soon a physical change as well.  But because I am still trying to become the person I’ve always wanted to be, the person I was destined to become, I have become lost.  I don’t know where I’ll end up or what I’ll believe when this is all over but all I can say is at the moment my thoughts are muddled with exhaustion and the constant wear of life.  Most people say that my life is great and I shouldn’t complain about anything… little do they know what I’ve gone through internally that I haven’t shared with anyone.  For my age I’ve learned more things the hard way and some things I have come to learn at a cost to my innocence and character.  And by that I mean I have become cold or indifferent simply because I’m not going to put up with it or I do not care if it happens to someone else.  My soul has been burdened a lot over the last several years but it has helped shape who I am to become.  


Stanley Kubrick on life.


Stanley Kubrick on life.

How can you?


over think these 
fucking facts:

we live
we procreate
we lie
we die

sometimes we
we cherish

most of the time we

these things are fact

the sins of our existence 
is written in the sand
drowned in the oceans
polluted in the air

what we were given
and what we had was

and we’ve destroyed it
for constant need
is more powerful than
constant living