Knives and Pens

I have never questioned my pain.

Many people worship it. Many people dislike it. And for those people who do, normally end up dead. I have no intention of disrespect. If you welcome suicide, go ahead, but be sure to finish what you started. Don't go around posting pictures of yourself almost attempting suicide because then you should see the "attention whore" label coming. So don't complain.

Let's be clear here. I also don't encourage suicide. But whatever. Some people don't listen anyway. Let them be. People get help if they wanted help. People want help if they're ready to get helped. But remember, if you do kill yourself, don't drag people along with you.

But this post isn't about suicide really, it's about that drive that leads to suicide - pain.

Suicide is a result of depression.

Depression is a result of rejection.

Rejection is a result of fear.

And in between is pain.

I have never questioned my pain.

Let me expand the song title "Knives and Pens" by Black Veil Brides. It highlights two options in life. Blood or Ink. Violence or Creativity. Suicide or Writing.

I embrace my pain because it  writes my poem.

But is it just a substitute of blood, violence, and suicide?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Maybe writing is the only thing keeping me sane, because my mind is full of words I couldn't speak, full of regrets I couldn't admit, full of dreams I couldn't pursue, full of hopes I couldn't have, full of all I seek to be. My brain shouldn't be inside my body, but my body of my brain. Maybe then I can turn the unspoken to spoken, the regrets to acceptance, the dreams to reality, the hopes to possibilities, and be the person I truly want to be.

But don't worry.

I'm not suicidal.

Maybe.

Maybe not.