When I was 23 I met a man named Syx when I went to get my first tattoo. He was really nice and as it turns out a terrible kisser, but that’s neither here nor there. He saved my life, because at that time in my life I actually wanted to commit suicide. The tattoo I got is a dragon climbing out of an egg, a reminder that even after death life goes on.

Tonight someone posted a question about whether they could go out to go for a walk with a friend, this annoyed me because I don’t know if you heard but recently a Nurse i Italy killed herself to prevent others from getting the same virus that has killed thousands around the world.

Her name? Daniela Trezzi.

She was two years younger than me, smart, beautiful talented and by all accounts extremely kind. She killed herself to prevent others from getting Covid 19.

Like it or not she made the choice to end her own life, and yes it is a fucking choice. It’s not a great choice in my humble opinion, but it’s a choice.

Syx killed himself too.

So did my friend Poochie, he hung himself. I remember I was walking my dead the moment I felt in my gut, I even said the words out loud “Poochie’s dead.” I knew the moment it happened and two days later there it was in blue and white on fucking Facebook of all things.

It’s a fucking stupid choice.

I could kill myself, but I won’t. There are a lot of reasons that I won’t commit suicide least of all is that I am strong. I am making the choice to continue to suffer in hopes that things get better. I am choosing to continue fighting, and before you tell me you’re not that strong I am going to call bullshit.

It’s a fucking choice. It’s a choice not to give up, not a gift.

Tonight someone told me that if they killed myself it would be my fault for telling them to stay the fuck home. Fuck you. Wherever you are. Whoever you are fuck you.

I muted them, because that’s what I needed to do for my mental health, and that’s the hardest thing in the world for someone who actively likes to help others.

I cancelled After Abuse Chat because that’s what I needed to do for my mental health.

You can choose to live or you can choose to die.

Life is a series of choices, I just choose to get up every single day and do something, whether it’s write on my blog dick around on Twitter or write love letters, I do something every single fucking day. I choose.

That’s my power, you aren’t a victim you’re a chooser and you are choosing to project your negativity on other people, dealing with mental health is about building your muscles so you can be strong to fight against the negativity, it’s about making the choice to do it or not.

You can continue to be the guy who tells people you’re going to kill yourself on twitter, or you can choose to fight against the darkness and find a place of peace in your life, it’s all in the approach.

It took me more than twenty years to get here I had to spend a great deal of time learning how to combat against the darkness, I had to spend a lot of time trying to find my passion. I am not strong by accident, I fucking worked at it, and I happen to know how difficult it is.

You aren’t lazy because you’re having a bad day, you’re tired and sore and everything hurts because your brain hurts, yes I fucking get it.

Putting that negativity on others doesn’t win you any friends, and it sure as fuck isn’t going to make you feel better. I’m not saying you have to be nice all the time but when we lash out against others it’s rarely because they said something about another person and more about how we choose to respond.

I know that being isolated in these times is scarier than usual, and harder because so many of us have places we go routinely, places where we see grocery keepers or bookstore clerks, people that even if our relationship is tenuous, matter to us.

I fucking get it. That still doesn’t give you the excuse to lash out at others, because that’s not going to get people to be on your side, I know this for a fact.

Start a fucking blog, it’s not hard you can do so here at WordPress.com, you can do so at any number of places, share your feelings and if you believe no ones’ reading for the record I’ve been blogging for twenty years and people are only just starting to tune into my work.

It takes work and effort to get people to read your work, but that work is part of my mental health work. It’s part of what keeps me sane and keeps me going, it’s a tool in my arsenal against the darkness.

People are reading, but they aren’t commenting, that also takes effort and work, people want to hear your stories because they want to know that you fucking get it, but if you aren’t here to tell your stories, then who else is going to?

Part of dealing with mental health issues means being honest and admitting that you have some things you could work on in order to be a nicer and happier person.

It means deciding the words “I Can’t” are no longer going to be a part of your vocabulary, because those words are incredibly damaging.

It means deciding, making the choice to decide that this shit is not going to kill you because you refuse to go out on anyone else’s terms.

It means choosing not to be a dick just because you’re in a piss poor mood. It means making the choice to be the kind of human you would be proud to have in your life.

It means finding a sense of spirituality that helps you believe in something bigger than yourself. There is a whole bunch of steps actually, twelve of them if you want me to be honest and they work for millions for a reason.

If you want your life to get better you have to make the choice to make it better. YOU have to do the fucking work because no one can do it for you.

Thanks for giving me something to write about,

Sending all my love to those making the choices

Devon J Hall

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