I have always considered myself as oddly optimistic. I’ve always been one to try and find ‘the good.’ In people, and just overall life in general. If I couldn’t see the good, I would try like hell to BE the good. Like somehow me pouring every single ounce of happy optimism and goodness that I had into someone, or something else, would split the difference. (Spoiler alert, it doesn’t.) In theory, it’s a fantastic way to live. In practice though? It’s complete shit. It’s also really fucking exhausting. You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you absolutely can’t pour all of your goodness into someone else hoping that you’ll…

I’ve had them. Sometimes I still do. Websters dictionary defines Suicidal tendencies as this: thoughts, ideas, or rumination’s about the possibility of ending one’s own life. Life can hurt like a bitch. You’re going along smooth sailing, until you’re not. Out of nowhere you get dealt a shit hand. A sucker punch on a random Sunday night that obliterates every single thing you’ve ever known. Having thoughts, ideas, or ruminations about the possibility of ending one’s own life. THE POSSIBILITY. Possibility does NOT always equate to probability. Not wanting to live, does not mean wanting to die. I have absolutely, on multiple occasions, had suicidal tendencies. I am absolutely NOT…