Have you ever been raped?
Have you ever attempted suicide?
Spent time in a psych ward?
Been on chemo, near death?
Or, had a friend take their own life?
Or, perhaps worse, a family member?
Have you lost someone to drug abuse?
Stop glorifying death. Stop glamorizing abuse. Stop romanticizing hell. We have enough Lana Del Rays and Stephanie Meyers in this world. We don’t need you propagating such unhealthy behaviors and ideas.
I’m all for discussing “taboo” subjects. Hell, if you read my work I’m a muthafuckin’ shitty trauma poet. I frequently discuss mental illness, addiction, domestic violence, sexual abuse, chronic illness(es) and other depressing subjects. I do so to stop the stigma, connect with others in similar situations and begin a dialogue. I always say to my few readers, “you aren’t alone”. It’s important they know they aren’t alone. Living under such dreadful circumstances and then the aftermath can be very isolating. I’ve lived it and am living it and feel, currently, very isolated most days.
Now, all too often in my reader I am reading this “emo” (for lack of a better term) poetry that makes such experiences sound desirable. Beautiful! Abuse as a reflection of affection. A source of passion. Idealistic. Dream-like.
Being raped is horrible.
Being molested is horrible.
Being beaten is horrible.
Losing people to suicide and drugs is terrible.
It’s not passion.
These aren’t beautiful things. They should be discussed. They should be written about. But, they aren’t good things. The tracks they leave on the mind of us, the abused, stay with us forever. They haunt us. They torture us. And, at least in my case, make me want to go away for a long time by any way possible. To get lost in my own mind and forget what I’ve been through.
Before I end this post, I want to apologize now if I ever came across as glorifying such behavior. It was never my attention. No one ever told me I have done so. But, just in case I have by accident, I want you to know it was not my intention.
And now, I’m going to start calling people out who write this way through my only way- comments. They’ll probably get deleted. Or ignored. But I will, nonetheless. Why? Because I don’t want some impressionable pre-teen or teenager to be influenced by such sick thoughts. I posted a few days ago that I rarely comment on posts. And I never write anything rude.
Now is the time.
I’ve had enough
putting lipstick over cigarette burns.