On Suicide: For Scott

Today, my best friend, Scott, took his own life. The friend who gave me the name for this blog. The friend I’ve complained about in posts here, and in my life, talking about how needy he was. How emotional. How annoying.

He’s been there for me through my own self-harming, suicidal depression. We promised each other we’d tell the other one if we decided to go through with it. I was getting better. He wasn’t.

He texted me early this morning, when I was asleep. “I told you I’d tell you if I was going to kill myself, and I keep my promises.” That was at two. By the time I woke up, he was dead. I never had the chance to keep him alive. But if I’d only known, I would have done everything I could. As much as I complained about him, he was one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I really didn’t deserve him. For some reason, though, he stuck around, right until the end.

So many people today have told me that there was nothing I could have done. But just one hour. One hour earlier, and I would have gotten that text in time. One kind word. Instead of berating him for imagined stupidities, I could have told him I cared about him. That he was like a brother to me. That I wanted him to be happy. One apology. I’ll never know all the small things I could have done that would have kept him alive.

Scott had his problems. He was drinking heavily. He had several mental illnesses, including depression. He felt his entire family hated him. So many friends walked out of his life because they found him annoying. This is the boy who started talking to me in Financial Literacy my senior year of high school. Who asked me to sit by him, and made me feel worthwhile. The boy who took me on a date. My first kiss. A friend you couldn’t get rid of. Always willing to rescue me when I locked my keys in my car, or my battery died, or I had a flat tire. He took me shooting, running, hiking. Once, we had a sword fight with his shoes. He listened to my boy and family problems, and did his best to make me laugh. I’ll never have another friend like him.

What could I have done? One hour. One word. If only.

But the stark reality is that he’s gone. He was unhappy here, and he’s found peace now. He’s free from all the awful things life was piling on him. It hurts so badly, but he’s in a better place.

Please, anyone out there who might ever consider suicide, think of the effect you’re going to have on your loved ones. The gaping wound you’ll be causing them. I don’t ever want anyone else to know what this feels like. This horrible pain. Wondering where I went wrong. What I could have done. I can’t even begin to imagine what whoever found him must be going through. His family.

Personally, I’m broken. I have no heart for lame jokes right now. All I can do is sit and cry, and try to get my thoughts out before my eyes get too blurry with tears.

Scott, you moron, I love you dearly. Rest in peace. Please be happy.

Falling In Love Is So Hard On The Knees

Alas! Far too long have I been away! But behold, I have returned! And with fresh crazies to fill any quota! Now with exclamation points!

So, what’s new, Mac? How have you been? I’ve been well, thank you. I’ve had better times, of course, and worse ones. But c’est la vie!

Well, I went back to work at a scout camp this summer. Good times. Had a lot of depressing times. In fact, I often would sit in my tent and cry myself silly. But we don’t talk about that. We pretend that it never happened. I also played a very interesting game of chicken with my pocket knife. All this was distressing, because I’ve never been this depressed at camp. Camp has always had the power to make things better.

But this story gets better, in a way. I met a guy. Well, actually, that’s misleading. I’d already worked with him, two years before. We were friends, but I never really thought of him as more than that. He’s not really the type I’d ever go for. Plus, my self-esteem definitely hasn’t been at its highest, meaning I haven’t felt particularly lovable, which has upped my obliviousness by about sixty percent.

Well, that was until I started wondering if maybe this friend might like me. I doubted it, of course, but I still kept wondering. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the suspicion, and then I started noticing all the good qualities about him, and one thing led to another, and we were hanging out a lot more, talking, hugging, and finally kissing.

For a while there, I can admit, I was pretty head over heels. And it sucked. Because I’m paranoid. And freaking crazy. I wanted so much more than I could get from him (distance being an issue), so it doesn’t exactly qualify as a relationship. Didn’t keep me from wanting more, though.

I had something to lose, and I was terrified of messing it up. Of being too needy, too clingy, too crazy, too emotional, too demanding. Of being hurt, I guess.

Around him, I felt like a normal, sane, happy person. And that’s more addictive than caffeine. I still can’t wait to get my next fix, even though I’ve started to get my life back together and re-realized that I need to do what I want to do for myself, not for him, or any other guy.

He’s what put a temporary halt to my angsting and moaning. Thanks to him, my head’s staying above the water, and I’m learning to tread again. I’m not hoping I’m going to die anymore. To say that he’s my reason for living is beyond stupid. But he has reminded me of why I want to live. And that makes the weight of the world feel so much lighter.

I know it’s not going to last. It’s still just a stupid infatuation, that has finally died back into reasonable levels. Plus, I’m crazy, and he doesn’t deserve that.

I’m still in way too deep.

My Love Affair with Horror

Horror. Horror! Oh, the horror!

Scary stuff. Fear. Things that go bump in the night. Something under the bed or in the closet. The monsters of reality and our imaginations. Of course, here, the Kingdom of Under The Covers isn’t safe.

Muahahahaha!

Moving past that.

I’m a horror junkie. I love seeing if I can be scared, and I love scaring other people. Acting in a haunted house was one of the most fun things I’ve ever done.

For me, subjecting myself to horror movies is challenging myself not to be scared. Seeing how fearless I am. Moving forward when others shrink away.

When someone is afraid of you, you have power over them. They’re the prey, and you’re joined in a complex dance. And it’s a wonderful, addictive feeling. Why do you think so many people have fed off of it? When someone is afraid of you, you can control them. Make them do what you want. If you know a person’s fears, you can manipulate them. And being able to do that is quite the thrill.

For instance, think of how often men are manipulated because of their male ego. A fear of not being masculine.Now, I may not be a good person, but let me straighten this out—I’m not a horrible person, either. I promise, I’ve never killed anyone, and I’m a relatively good little Mormon girl. I’m just pointing this stuff out because it’s interesting to me.

I think my love of horror stemmed from wanting to prove what a little badass (forgive the language) I was. Step away from the whiny, sensitive crybaby image. I read Dracula when I was ten, and I watched Stephen King’s Rose Red the same year. Both terrified me, of course. Particularly Rose Red, which is still near the top of my favorite horror movies.

At eleven, me and my dad started going to see horror movies together. Like Darkness and White Noise, both of which also gave me nightmares. I tried reading  Dean Koontz’s Hideaway that year and The Voice of The Night the next. Both were too adult for me at the time. And then, of course, my sister read Koontz’s Lightning, and warned me off his books, saying he was “a sex maniac.” Well, she was only thirteen or fourteen.

So, staying away from Koontz, I read The Shining in eighth grade, Bag of Bones that summer. Carrie and ‘Salem’s Lot during freshman year, I believe. Sometime around there, my dad decided to show me Night of the Living Dead, which I couldn’t watch all the way through because my mother had made greasy, flavorless chicken for dinner, and that combined with watching zombies eating intestines made me sick.

Sophomore year I went to my first drama club meeting, where they were requesting actors for the local haunted house. I decided to try it. And that, let me tell you, is where my true love of horror came from. My inability to scare easily. I worked in a haunted house that was really haunted. How much scarier could you get?

So, after that season, I started expanding my horizons with Silence of the Lambs and Resident Evil. I picked up another Koontz book, and found myself hooked. I started watching most of the horror movies I could get my hands on, though I avoided most of the classics and the slashers, because they looked stupid.

And after four more years of working in that haunted house before retiring, as it were, I think I know my horror pretty well.

My Top Ten Horror Movies:

  1. Insidious—Made me jump, even in the height of my cocky horror-movies-don’t-scare-me phase, and wasn’t in the least what I was expecting.
  2. Dead Silence—Scared me so badly I had to go sit outside in the sun, and I still didn’t feel safe!
  3. The Rite—A good possession movie for those who don’t watch R-rated movies, but still want quality. Can’t get better than the great Anthony Hopkins!
  4. Rose Red—One of my classic favorites, terrified me for days on end the first time I saw it. The best in haunted house movies.
  5. Devil—Some good jumps, but the story is the best part.
  6. Stay Alive—Atmosphere, baby! Horror game that’s for reals? Erzebet Bathory? Heck yeah!
  7. The Woman in Black—Saw this with my sister and my best friend on my birthday. Sister doesn’t do the horror thing. Her reaction was the best part, but it’s a good, creepy story with some satisfying jumps.
  8. 1408—I like this one mostly for the story and the concept, although it has a few good jumps and some fun twists.
  9. White Noise—A favorite from my younger days. Still has the power to make me jump, besides being a good concept.
  10. The Devil Inside—That woman is seriously disturbing. That’s some quality acting, right there!

I’d add a list of books, too, but it’s so incredibly rare for a book to scare me. They very rarely have the same power over me as movies.