It’s 2016 and I thought I could try to maintain control over my depression but it will always find a way to creep up behind me. I don’t know how long I can keep up this fight and I feel as though as I am losing control. I am keeping things bottled up but the depression will keep coming back and I will fall back into my old habits of sell-hate and thoughts of suicide. So far, I haven’t attempted to cut myself but I attempted to chop my hands off when my new Flipz headphones stopped working. I thought it was because I destroy everything I touch.
I am still trying to fight off these urges of harming myself even though I made my New Years’ Resolution to try and rid myself of my depression forever. That’s why I’m going to therapy next month. When I talk to my therapist, who is named Lisa, I tell her that I have been battling depression since I was a teenager and it has gotten worse as I grow; I’ll say that I have attempted to harm myself on occasions where things don’t go my way and I couldn’t handle it.
I might even have to go to a preacher to confess about my failed suicide attempts which landed me in the hospital on a few occasions. I might even say that I believe that depression is a demon, since I think it could be a demon in a sense.
What I am saying is that I need help with my battle with depression.
Here is my year in review. Over the course of this year, I have been through an endless series of misfortune and there were times in which I wanted to end my suffering. Ever since the start of the year, I was plagued with bad luck throughout and my depression started to get the best of me. There were moments in which I wanted to take my life because I didn’t feel I was worthy enough to live. I felt as though I didn’t deserve to live.
As I said, there have been several incidents in which I wanted to kill myself; for instance, on March 13, 2015, I tried to commit suicide by attempting to get myself run over by a moving car and I was escorted to the hospital via police cruiser. That was just the tip of the iceberg, I even posted about my incident a week later, stating that the devil wanted me to take my life so that I can reunite with my late friend, Charlotte, in hell.
And if you think that was bad enough, I have had a difficult time trying to adjust to college. I had financial issues that needed to be paid, I had to get my grades up in order to keep my Financial Aid, and I was swindled out of money that I don’t actually have.
I was friend zoned by my crush, most of my friends are getting married, having babies, and living good lives; I’m still going to a community college via public transportation and I still can’t keep my head above water. I’m 24 years old, I still live my mother, I have no wife, no girlfriend, and I have no job.
However, there were some good things that came out of this year. I have attended to the Phoenix Comic Con for three days, I even got to meet other cosplayers who liked to play dress up, and I even got a few good stuff.
Nevertheless, I still have battles with my depression and there were even times where I contemplated suicidal hater for myself; I even tried attempting suicide on several occasions. I thought about cutting myself with an exacter knife each morning or I thought about hanging myself on the bridge in Wellton. I had to watch a lot of suicide stories to dissuade myself from going through with my attempts.
That’s when I realized that there are other people just like me who are faced with this problem, especially on social media sites like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. I have been getting messages from bloggers on WordPress about my articles and some have been inspirational since these were people who have gone through the same thing I’ve been through.
This was by far the most difficult thing I ever did, writing about my attempted suicides and my thoughts on attempting suicide. I thought that I was going to get in trouble for speaking my mind but what I am doing is being brave for all of you who suffer from clinical depression, just like me.
In closing, 2015 was an unfortunate year for me and I am hoping that 2016 would be better. Here’s to a Happy New Year.
I know the holiday season is supposed to be a time of joy, but I am still depressed. I’m just so very tired. My family pisses me off on Christmas every year and I don’t know why. They have been so great to me all those years and I am still not happy. This year was a terrible year for me because my depression got the best of me; I have attempted suicide three times this year. And out of those three attempts, two have landed me in the hospital. And now it’s Christmas and I still have these running thoughts of taking my life; yet I don’t know why I am feeling this way. I’m supposed to be happy on Christmas but I’m not. Instead of sugarplums dancing in my head, I have thoughts of my lifeless body dangling at the end of the rope. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I can’t feel this way, not around Christmas.
This was the hardest thing for me to say because I am trying my best but it’s just not enough. I think there’s something wrong with me and I need help.
I am writing this because there are more people who are faced with holiday blues who live in pain, especially during this time of year. They say Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, but it’s actually the most depressing time because there are still people out there who are faced with mental illnesses that prevent them from enjoying time with their family and friends. They shut everybody out for no reason because their depression becomes worse and they want to end their lives, just like me.
Imagine on Christmas morning when your parents call your name to open presents but you don’t answer because you’ve ended your life on Christmas Eve. They walk into your room only to find your lifeless body at the foot of the bed, or dangling from the ceiling, or with slits at your wrist, or a bullet hole in your head. Their Christmas morning has turned into a day of mourning. Imagine your family having to sell all their Christmas presents just to pay for your funeral, imagine your family crying endlessly every year because Christmas will not be the same without you and you know it. The holiday spirit will never come back, no more Christmas trees, no more presents, no more family dinners because you’re dead.
If you knew what it was like, then you would see why I am writing this. I have faced depression all year and it has gotten to the point where I attempted suicide twice. I pretended to be happy, I even tricked myself to feel this way. And I am not alone, there are others like me. So I have decided to write this blog, especially on Christmas, because I am trying to reach out to other people who is faced with suicidal depression. These people need me to help them in the right path. My life is too precious and I am not going to take it way. I am not going to make the same mistake again. I am going to fight this for all of you.
Everything will be alright. You just have to believe it. It’s never too late to turn things around. There is still hope. We just need to open up our hearts and let it come in.
With Halloween around the corner, I thought I might want to start it off with a little scary story. Now before I begin, I just want to let you guys know that I used to love Pokemon when I was a kid. I had the merchandise and I played the games. I even watched several episodes of the Pokemon animated series and I did watch several of the Pokemon movies. Over the years, I began to lose interest in Pokemon as I grew but I still remembered those days. But then, I started reading up about Creepypastas recently. If you don’t know what a Creepypasta is, a creepypasta is like an urban legend or ghost story being told all over the internet. There are so many Creepypastas on the internet right now and they’re usually about serial killers, scientific experiments, supernatural entities, lost episodes, and haunted games. The Creepypasta I am going present is one that I recently heard. You’ve heard about the stories pertaining to Pokemon and how several episodes caused epileptic seizures in children under all across Japan. There’s even a darker secret behind the popular Pokemon franchise. There have been a large number of Pokemon based Creepypastas that I have begun to know about and some of them might be far fetched than others. As I said before, this Creepypasta that I am going to display is one that I recently heard about and liked. It has become my recent favorite. It’s called Pokemon: Come Follow Me.
Here is the story:
“During the first few days of the release of Pokemon Red and Green in Japan, back in February 27, 1996, a peak of deaths appeared in the age group of 10-15.
The children were usually found dead through suicide, usually by hanging or jumping from heights. However, some were more odd. A few cases recorded children who had began sawing off their limbs, others sticking their faces inside the oven, and choking themselves on their own fist, shoving their own arms down their throat.
The few children who were saved before killing themselves showed sporadic behavior. When asked why they were going to hurt themselves they only answered in chaotic screams and scratched at their own eyes. When showed what seemed to be the connection to this attitude, the Gameboy, they had no response, but when combined with either Pokemon Red or Green, the screams would continue, and they would do their best to leave the room it was located in.
This confirmed the authorities suspicion that the games, somehow, had a connection to these children and the deaths. It was a strange case, because many children who had the same games did not show this behavior, but only a few. The police had no choice but to pursue this, since they had no other leads.
Collecting all the cartridges these children had purchased, they kept them sealed away as strong evidence to look over later. They decided the first thing to do was to talk to the programmers themselves. The first person they met was the director of the original games, Satoshi Tajiri. When told about the deaths surrounding his games, he seemed slightly uneasy, but admitted nothing. He lead them to the main programmers of the game, the people responsible for the actual content.
The detectives met Takenori Oota, one of the main programmers of the game. Unlike Satoshi, he did not seem uneasy, but very kept. Explaining that it was impossible to use something like a game to cause such deaths, and also bringing up the point that not all the children were affected, he brushed it off as some kind of odd coincidence or mass hysteria. It seemed like he was hiding something, but he wasn’t giving way. Finally, he did say something interesting.
Takenori had heard a rumor going around that the music for Lavender Town, one of the locations in the game, had caused some children to go ill. It was only a rumor, and had no real definite back up, but it was still something to look into.
He directed the detectives to Junichi Masuda, the music composer of the series. Masuda had also heard of these rumors, but again said they had no evidence that his music was the cause. Even to prove a point he played the exact song from the game completely through with no effects to anyone, the detectives nor Masuda himself, feeling anything different or odd. Although they still had their suspicions of Masuda and the music of Lavender town, it seemed they had reached another dead end.
Going back to the cartridges they had seized from the homes of the children, they decided to take a slightly more direct look at the games. They knew that it was these games that gave the children the ill effects, so they took extreme caution. Popping in the cartridge and turning the console on, the game screen booted. The title screen appeared, and the option to continue or create a new game appeared.
When they chose to continue the game, stats of that game appeared. They saw the names of the children who had played, usually “Red” or another simple name. However, the interesting thing was the time played and the number of Pokemon they owned. On every game, the time was very low, and all of them had only a single Pokemon in their inventory. They came to the stunning reality that it could not have been the music from Lavender town that had caused such ill effects in the children, since it was impossible to reach that part of the game in such small amount of time and with only one Pokemon in their inventory. This brought them to the conclusion that something early on in the game had to be the cause.
If it wasn’t the music, nor the title screen, it had to be something within the first few minutes of the game itself. They had no choice but to turn off the game now and go back to the programmers. Asking for a list of all the programmers from Takenori, they found, surprisingly, that one of the programmers had committed suicide shortly after the game was released. His name was Chiro Miura, a very obscure programmer who had provided very little for the game. Even more interestingly, he had requested his name did not appear in the credits of the game, and so it was not.
Looking over the evidence found at Chiro’s apartment, they found many notes written in bold marker. Most of it was crumbled, or marked out, making it very difficult to read. They few words they could find in the mess was “Do not enter”, “Watch out” and “COME FOLLOW ME” in bold. The detectives were unsure what these meant, but knew they had to have a connection. Further searching, they discovered Chiro was good friends with one of the map designers, Kohji Nisino, and this was probably the only reason Chiro had given a part in making the game.
Kohji Nisino, since the release of the game, had locked himself in his apartment, barely leaving in the dark of night to fetch anything he might need. He told his friends and family he was mourning for his dear friend Chiro, but they didn’t believe this, since Nisino had locked himself up the day the game was put in stores, a few days before Chiro had killed himself.
It was troubling, but the authorities finally persuaded Nisnino to sit down and speak with them. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, dark rings under his eyes. He stunk, his nails had grown black and his hair was greasy, sticking to his forehead and neck. He spoke in stutters and murmurs, but at least he had something to say.
When asked if he knew anything about the children who had died after exposure of the game and if it had any connection to the game, he answered them seemingly carefully, choosing his words thoughtfully before answering. He told them that his friend Chiro had an interesting idea with the game, something he had wanted to try since he heard the project was starting. Nisino himself knew Takenori, the director and main programmer, for a long time, so he could easily get a mediocre programmer in on the project with a little persuasion. It seemed Chiro had convinced Nisino to get him in on the project, and it had worked.
The detectives knew they were on to something. This unknown obscure programmer, Chiro, had to have something to do with it, something… They asked what Chiro’s idea was, why he wanted so badly to have a part in making this children’s game. Nisino told them that Chiro never told him much about it, other than a few details every now and then. He wanted to insert a special Pokemon in the game, one completely different from all the others. It would serve as an extra, a kind of out of place thrill for the player. It wasn’t, however, Missing No. It couldn’t be. With the gameplay time recorded on the cartridges, it was impossible for the children to have time to meet that Pokemon.
Nisino, throughout the entire conversation, seemed to break down even more with every question. The detectives pushed him more and more, searching through his mind for any and every scrap of knowledge this man had no game and Chiro… and Chiro’s intentions…
It was when they asked about the notes found in Chiro’s home that he snapped. From under the couch Nisino was sitting on he whipped out a pistol, pointing it straight at the police while backing away a few steps. Then, just as quickly, he brought the pistol to his face.
“Don’t follow me…” muttered Nisino as he stuck the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. It was too quick for the police to react. It was done. Nisino had killed himself, repeating slightly differently what was written on one of Chiro’s papers…
It seemed all leads had finally died. The team who had created this original game were splitting up, becoming harder to find. It was as if they were keeping a secret. When the police finally managed to talk with anyone who had parts in the game, even the obscure character designers or monster designers, it seemed they had nothing of interest to say. Most of them didn’t even know Chiro, and the few who did only seen him once or twice working on the game itself. Throughout all of this the only confirmation they had was that Chiro was indeed the one who had worked on the very early parts of the game.
It had been a couple of months after the original children suicides and the death rate had dropped dramatically. It seemed that the game was no longer giving any ill effects to any children. The call back of the games that was planned was canceled, since it seemed the game was no longer harming any children. They had began to think that maybe Takenori was right and it was all just a very odd coincidence or mass hysteria… Until they received the letter.
It was given to one of the detectives himself, quite directly out on the street. It was a woman who gave him the note, a very frail, thin, sick looking thing. She gave him the letter quickly, telling him it was something he needed to see, and without waiting for a response or another word, she disappeared into the crowd. The detective brought it to his office, and calling the others in, he brought it out and read it aloud.
It was a letter written by Chiro himself, but it wasn’t one found at his apartment. They had thoroughly searched and cleared out the place, so wherever this letter had come from, it wasn’t kept at his home. It was signed to be given to Nisino. It started off quite formal, a hello, how are you, regards to the family, and such. After one or two of these normal paragraphs, they reached a section that requested Nisino to get him into the game team, to get him a programming position in Pokemon Red and Green.
As the letter continued, the handwriting seemed to grow more jittery. He talked about a glorious idea he had, a way to program something unseen in any game before. He said it would certainly revolutionize not only the gaming industry, but everyone. He went on to say that it was a very simple procedure to program this idea into the game. He did not even have to add any foreign programming, but could use what was already given in the game itself. This would, the detectives agreed, make it impossible to notice any obscurities in the programming itself. It was a perfect way to hide whatever this was.
The letter ended abruptly. There was no goodbye, no say hi to the family, no write back, or thank you. Nothing like that. It was just his name, written hard in the letter where the paper almost broke through. It was only his name. “Chiro Miura.”
This was the nail in the coffin for the detectives. They had no more suspicion about the cause. Chiro had programmed something into the early parts of the game, something maddening. To further increase this streak of success, they discovered that the programming team had worked in pairs, even Chiro himself. He had worked with another programmer, Sousuke Tamada.
If anyone knew what the secret in this game was, Sousuke Tamada would be the man. This was their final hope of unraveling this mystery once and for all.
They learned Sousuke had provided a lot of programming to the game, and seemed to be an average, good guy and worker. They were easily allowed into his home, a fair place, and they entered his living room where they sat. Sousuke did not sit, however. He stood by the window of the second story floor, looking out onto the busy street. He was smiling a little.
There is no direct witnesses to the events that followed. The only thing from this conversation that remained was found on a voice recorder sitting on the table in front of the two detectives assigned to talk to Sousuke. What follows is the unedited recording:
“Sousuke Tamada, what part did you have in the games Pokemon Red and Green?” asked the first detective.
“I was a programmer.” His voice was light, friendly, almost too friendly. “That’s all.”
“Am I right in knowing that the programmers working on the game worked in teams?” asked the detective.
One could hear the voice of feet moving on the floor slightly. “You would be right,” said Sousuke after a moment of silence.
“And your partner, his name was–” The detective was quickly cut off by Sousuke eerie voice.
“Chiro Miura… That was his name. Chiro Miura.”
Another silence. It seemed the detectives were a little uneasy about this man. “Could you tell us if Muira ever acted strange at all? Any particular behaviors you observed while working with him at all?”
Sousuke answered them. “I don’t know him that well, really. We didn’t meet up frequently, only every once in a while to trade data, or when the entire group was called up for a meeting… That’s the only times I really ever saw him. He acted normal, as far as I could tell. He was a short man, and I think this affected his consciousness.. He acted weaker than any other man I met. He was willing to do a lot of work to gain recognition, this I do know. I think…”
Silence. “Yes?” asked the detective, pushing for him to continue. “You think what?”
“I think he was a very weak man. I think he wanted to prove himself regardless of this point… I think he wanted to make himself known for something special, something that would make people forget about the way he looked and pay attention to the powerful mind that lay inside his skull.. Unfortunately for him, however.. heheh.. He didn’t have much of a mind to back up that reasoning.”
“Why do you say that?” asked the second detective.
“Well it’s the simple truth,” answered Sousuke quickly. His feet could be heard moving across the tiled floor. “He was nothing special, even if he wanted to believe so. You can’t become greatness, even if you believe it. It’s impossible… Somehow, I think Chiro knew this himself, somewhere deep in there, he knew it.”
The detectives were silent again, not sure how to steer the conversation. After a moment, they continued. “Can you tell us what Chiro’s part of the game was? What did he work on exactly?”
Sousuke answered more quickly than before. “Nothing… I mean, nothing important. He worked on some obscure parts of the beginning of the game.” A pause, then a little more information. “It was Oak’s part to be exact. He worked on some of Oak’s parts… When he’s seen first, you see..”
“What else?” pushed the police. They could hear it in Sousuke’s voice. He knew something. “We know you know about the children and the deaths. We know it was Chiro who did it. He programmed something in the game.”
“What are you implying?” asked Sousuke. It sounded like he was trying to maintain his voice.
“We’re implying that since your his partner, if you’re hiding something from us then you could just as much be responsible for those children’s deaths as Chiro is himself!”
“You can’t prove anything!” Sousuke shouted.
“Tell us what Chiro did to the game!” they shouted back.
“WHAT I TOLD HIM TO.”
Silence. Complete silence.
“You want to know, huh?” asked Sousuke finally, breaking the eerie silence, but replacing it with his voice. “You want to know what is this all about? Chiro was an idiot. He’d do anything for a bit of attention, anything at all. He couldn’t program worth a shit either. The one thing he could do, however, was be manipulated. You could tell him what to do, and he’d do it. He wouldn’t even question it, he’d do it. Just to hear that “thank you” when you received the finish product, that was his reasons. That’s all he wanted.”
Two clicks from the detective’s guns could heard.
“I could control his flawlessly. He’s a lot like Takenori… Of course none of you knew this, but I was the one who brought up the idea of the game, the idea of the entire operation. I just told the fellow what to do, and he followed me without doubt. He knows nothing, just like Chiro.”
A sound of a window opening could be heard, follow by the detectives.
“Don’t move or we’ll shoot!”
“Let me tell you about a mechanic in the game,” continued Sousuke. His voice was more rushed, but it still held that slyness. “Consider it a hint, alright? If you walk around in grassy areas enough a Pokemon will appear, and you’ll have the chance to go into battle with it. It’s a necessary part of the game overall, you see?”
“Step away from the window! We won’t warn you again!”
“At the start of the game you have to walk into the grassy area before Oak appears and you receive your first Pokemon, understand me? Under normal circumstances, it was programmed that even though you’re in a grassy area, no Pokemon will spawn… I made it different. I manipulated that Chiro, told him what to put in the program, gave him all the instructions on how to do it, and he did it flawlessly. It’s rare, but it can happen.. Stepping into that grass, one can spawn…”
“Sousuke, we don’t want to shoot!”
“Shoot me?” asked Souske, laughing at the same time. “Shoot ME? You’re as dumb as Chiro was! Once he found out the truth, he had to end it! It was his fault after all! He shot himself because of it! If you’re so determined to finish that case of yours, if you want to know, play the damn game for yourself! Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you’ll learn the secret for yourself!”
A shot could be heard, loud enough to distort the audio. Sounds of screaming, murmuring could be heard. The table the recorder was on crashed. Ear shattering distortions. Silence. Then laughing. Sousuke was laughing, and then words. “Come follow me… Come follow me…” And then nothing.
The recorder continued to record until the tape ran out. There was nothing else on it. The police arrived on the scene quickly, and to their horror they discovered Sousuke and the two detectives dead. They had all been shot, but not after struggling. The detectives had been shot multiple times, at least ten each, before dying after being shot in between their eyes. Sousuke himself had clearly died of two shots to his chest, straight through the heart.
This game was causing a massacre. At least a hundred children were dead. Nisino, the unsuspecting friend, dead. Chiro, the manipulated toy, dead. The two detectives, dead. And now, even the creator, the cause of this atrocity, Sousuke, dead. This game was stretching far over it’s original intentions. It was killing anyone and everyone who got involved.
The lead detective had decided to put this case away. The man who committed the crime was dead, so there was no longer any reason to continue the case. All evidence, all the cartridges, all the notes, all the letters, they were locked away, kept in the darkness where they belonged. There were talks about the entire thing, small conversations every now and then, but over the years even these began to fade away. Eventually, the case was only a memory in the minds of those who experienced it first hand.
Ten years passed. February 27, 2006 was the date. The lead detective, the man who locked away the original evidence ten years previous, was reminded of the awful event that occurred. Although he was no longer in the force, he still had access to files and was helped when he could. The reminder of the event caused him to look back, to open the sealed container that held all the evidence collected.
He read through the letters and the notes. He remembered the woman who had appeared to him on the street that one day and handed him that letter that lead to the change of the entire case. He wondered who she was, and where she had come from. Perhaps she was Chiro’s mother… or maybe Sousuke’s. It was far too late to pursue any of this. Far too late..
Sealing the container again, he saw a second one directly behind it. Pulling it out, he read the note on top of it. “Evidence #2104A” He opened it up, and looked inside. Filling the container were exactly 104 Pokemon Red and Green cartridges, each one in perfect condition, untouched since the day they had last checked them ten years ago.
He reached in and pulled one out, Pokemon Red. He hadn’t seen one in a long time. He didn’t know what he thought next, but he reached in his desk and pulled out an old Gameboy. He received it a long time ago, but it still worked. It was his son’s, but he had died a few years ago. His wife was gone too. That was then though. Popping in the cartridge in the back of the Gameboy he turned on the system.
The title screen. Then the option to continue or start a new game. “Tanaka.” That was the child’s name, the one who played it first. He was probably dead, along with all the others. He pressed New Game, and started a new game. It was normal, average. He walked around, talked to his mother, went outside. He started walking towards the grass.
In his head, he could still hear Sousuke’s words. Even though he was not there, even though he had never seen the man in his life, he could still see him, hear him. “Come follow me.”
He was getting closer and closer, only a step or two away.
“Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you’ll learn the secret for yourself!”
He entered the grass. The screen did nothing at first. Nothing at all. It just sat there, and so did the detective, completely frozen, as if time had stopped just for them. The screen went black. and then lit up again, the iconic green background with black text appearing.
The lead detectives weary eyes grew wide. He couldn’t help but read out what was there in front of him.
“Come follow me, come follow me, come follow me. I miss you dad, I miss you my husband, I miss you so much.”
Tears formed in his eyes, falling down his cheeks. Screens and screens of text appeared and he rapidly clicked the A button to continue it. It was his wife and his child. They were speaking to him, calling to him, crying with him. They wanted to see him, they loved him, he loved them.
“I love you too,” muttered the man in a hoarse, scratching voice.
“Come follow me, become new again. We want to see you and hold you, and be with you forever and ever and ever and ever.”
“AND EVER AND EVER…”
“Don’t stay away. You can see us too.. We miss you.. Come follow me. We love yo–”
A black screen. The detectives eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping. The screen lit back up, and Oak was leading him out of the grass. “Come follow me,” said Oak.
“NO!” shouted the man, dropping the game onto the floor. He quickly fell forward, reaching for it, bringing the screen back to his face. “Bring them back, bring them back to me!” The game continued on as usual, not responding to the detective at all. “My wife, my child, listen to me! Bring them back to me, I said!”
Voices… He heard voices, hundreds of voices. He turned around from his seat, looking behind him, and standing in his small room were children, many children. Some had no eyes, some had rings around their throats, some were burned all across their body. They were screaming, reaching towards him.
“Bring back my mommy, bring back my daddy, bring back my pet!” they all screamed out, reaching for the game, their mouths agape with horror and pain. “I don’t want them to go away, bring them back to me, bring them back to me!”
“No!” shouted the detective. “It’s mine! My family is here, don’t touch it!” Horror was across his face.
“Come follow me…” said a voice. The lead detective looked over, and in the corner of his room, next to an old desk, was Sousuke. He stood in the corner, tall, handsome, clean. A smile was on his face, stretching across his face. “Come follow me…”
The lead detective jumped up, stepping back, trying to force away the children crawling towards him, reaching out for the game held tightly within his hands. “Wh-what’s going on here!? What’s going on!? Where is my family!?”
Sousuke smiled generously. “I’ll show you. I’ll help you get away from them, you see? Just follow me.” Sousuke reached down, and opened a drawer on the old desk. The lead detective, pushing through the crowd of children, trying to get away, looked inside.
Sitting there, covered with dust, was his old gun from when he was on the force. He had not used that gun in many years and had put it away, not wanting to remember the things he had to do with it. But right now he didn’t see it as something that caused pain or that killed. It was shining, it was light. It was something that could set him free.
“Just follow me,” said Sousuke, picking up the gun and putting it in the lead detectives hand. He formed his hand to hold the gun, then brought it up to his temple. “Just pull the trigger. That’s all.”
The lead detective turned around. The children were crawling at him, grabbing his legs and pulling at him. They reached for the game. He turned back towards Sousuke, and smiled.
“My family… I’ll follow you.” He pulled the trigger. Bang. His brains spread the wall as he fell to the ground, dead.
It was a few days before the body was discovered. It lay on the floor, blood everywhere. In one hand held an empty gun, and in the other was a classic Gameboy with Pokemon Red on the back. The battery had long died, and only an empty, black screen was left.
This was the final murder that the remaining authorities would allow. The last detective who was ever a part of this case personally carried all 104 cartridges away, and burned them all, making sure not a single one survived. There would taunt no more.
However, this is not the end of the story. The code was said to have survived, and was even passed on to other language versions of the games. If you have an old Pokemon game, you can place the cartridge in the back of the classic Gameboy, turn on the system, and roll the wheel who knows? Maybe you’ll learn the secret for yourself.”
If you want to check the original story for yourself, here is the link:
Happy Halloween (I know it’s too early but I just wanna get a head start.)
Have you ever felt like you’re alone, like nobody cared about you? You sit on your computer just typing your darkest thoughts, contemplating over the bad things that have happened to you in the past, keeping your emotions bottled up.
I want to tell you a story. There was this young man, we’ll call him Henry. Henry had a great life, a loving family, and he had friends who cared about him. He was very thankful for the life he’s been given. He was practically the happiest person in the world. However, that happiness didn’t last.
When Henry was young, his grandmother passed away after suffering a heart attack from smoking. He was devastated by this turn of events. He grew more and more resentful at the people around him. He misbehaved in school, got in trouble with the teacher, and he was sent to the principal’s office. He felt that no one liked him, he was all alone.
Years later, he was in high school and he was on medication. Henry did manage to make it through all his classes without any complaints and he managed to talk to people. He made several friends in high school. However, the depression got to him in later years. There were moments in which Henry feels isolated and alone. There were even times where Henry wanted to end his life. In his sophomore year in high school, Henry had a crush on this girl. Let’s call her Emma. Henry liked Emma a lot but Emma only liked Henry as just a friend. Again the feelings of loneliness surfaced and Henry became deeply depressed. Henry was in love with Emma but she only thought of him as just a friend. He felt as though his heart was breaking. Even though he acted as though it didn’t matter, Henry still felt the feeling of loneliness each day. Every time he saw Emma talking to other guys, Henry felt left out. He was convinced that she never really liked him at all, like she never cared if he lived or died. So, Henry thought about committing suicide.
“Why not?”, he asked. “It’s not like anybody likes me. Maybe I should just kill myself.”
Henry has been given several opportunities to take his own life. He could climb atop to roof of the gymnasium and plunge to his death in front of the whole school. He took take a knife from his mom’s kitchen drawer and slit his wrists. He could take a handful of pills with a bottle of liquor. Every chance he gets, he could end right then and there. He was ready to die. Because he didn’t want to feel the pain anymore. He didn’t want to feel sad anymore. He just wanted to end his suffering forever.
“All I want is for this pain to go away,” he says to himself.
He wants to bring an end to his agony, to silence his shame. So, Henry went onto his computer to write his final goodbyes to all his friends on Facebook. He was done. He wanted it to be over.
Days later, Henry’s Facebook page blew up with messages of endearment.
“I feel your pain, dude. Just know that it gets better.”
“Don’t kill yourself, Henry. You have so much to offer this world.”
Henry scrolled down to reach each comment until he came across one written by Emma.
“Henry, my mom told me that you’re trying to kill yourself. Please, don’t do it. I know I haven’t been much of a good friend to you. I was so busy with school and work that I didn’t pay much attention. I feel terrible for the way I mistreated you. That wasn’t my intention to ignore you and your pain. Of all the people I’ve talked to, you’re practically the only one who actually listens. You are smart, kind, and you are beautiful, Henry. I have hung out with a lot of people and you were the nicest person I have met. You should never give up on life. There are so many people who care so much about you and they would be so sad to see you go. And so would I. You mean everything to me, Henry. I once told you that I liked you as a friend but now I know that you’re more than just a friend. You’re my family and I love you so very much. You see, Henry? You’re not alone. You never were. And don’t think that you’re not worthy because you are. So, if you need a friend to talk to, you can always come to me. I’m going to help you get through this so you don’t have to be alone.”
The next day, Henry noticed Emma looking directly at him. She smiled and waved. She looked to her friends and bid them farewell before she headed into his direction. Emma walked up to Henry and gave him a great big hug. She even kissed him on the cheek.
Henry knew that he will never have to be alone anymore.
“My friends and I are going to catch a movie later tonight. You wanna come?,” Emma asked Henry.
Henry looked at Emma with a smile on his face and said, “Hell yes.”
Henry and Emma walked to class together, hand in hand.
The moral of the story is there are people who care deeply about you, especially the ones who you care deeply about. You should never give up hope that the person that you like will like you back. When you open up to people, they open up to you. Life will get better. You just need to believe.
“It’s hopeless. I try so hard to do my best but I only make things worse. I cannot take anymore of this pressure. I just want out. I just want to be free. Free from all the misery, free from all my pain, free from all my suffering. Nothing I do makes a difference. I am just a screw up. I never get things right. I never learn anything. It’s all for nothing. I am worthless. Maybe I should end it here.”
Those are the words of a person who suffers from suicidal tendencies. It really hurts me just to see young people go through these extremes just because they think their lives are worthless. This is a very big issue and we need to open our eyes. More people are dying from suicide than gun violence and disease altogether. While everybody is busy ranting on about the election, or the Iranian nuclear deal, or even the climate change, there is one person who has claimed his or her life because they wanted just to be noticed. Well, they got noticed alright! Their names are in the newspaper in the obituaries. And nothing will change that.
I have been thinking about this. Now I know how sad and depressing life can be. I have my moments of feeling worthless. I have been friendzoned by my crush, I rarely talk to my family often, and school is becoming too hard for me. Yeah, I have had my problems and I still do. Each morning, I play it off like it’s no big deal but I keep fighting these demons when the thoughts provoke me. I have acted as though no cared about me that I was useless and there was no future for me. I told about my recent suicide attempt on March 13, 2015. I even considered a second attempt at suicide on August 7, 2015 when I tried to cut myself in my mom’s shower with one of her razors. I fought the urge to go through with it and I realized that I needed help. So I contacted the suicide prevention hotline and talked to the people who worked there. I cried so hard while I was on the line. They told me that I needed to let it all out. I was scared because I thought they said they were going to send the cops over to my house and my mom was on her way to take me to my doctor’s office to pick up my prescription.
Right now, at this very moment, I have been watching this video on suicide stories. There’s this particular one that got me thinking my world will not be the same if I’m gone. My mother would have to force herself to go to work just pay for my funeral, my friend Becca would have to give up her pageant career because she could not bear the fact that she would not see me again, my brother would not be strong anymore, my sister would have to quit her job because she would not carry on through the pain. All the people I went to high school with would also go to counseling for suicide prevention because they don’t want what would have happened to me to happen to them. They needed me more than I needed them. I would have realized this but I was too upset. And when I’m gone, their lives would be empty and meaningless. They would become worthless without me. This is something that we should all think about.
We need to realize that suicide is not the answer. It’s not taking your pain away, it’s giving it to everyone else around you. The emotional toll is unbearable because you’re gone and nothing can change that. Families and friends will blame themselves for your suicide, they will lose their way as you did. Even the person you love will try to take his or her life just because the guilt of not having you in his or her life would be unbearable. The pain would be too real and it would not go away.
If you feel like you want to kill yourself, stop. It’s not worth it. Think this through and take a step back. Reach out to someone who understands your pain. Talk to your family, talk to your friends, contact your local suicide hotline, and speak to a professional. It doesn’t hurt just to ask for help.
You are not worthless, you are worth it.