At the time, I, very calmly and calculatedly, told her the joke "kill yourself"
The ONLY other person in the room was him who shall not be named, who, at the time, was more my friend than hers. He laughed, hard. Later, he and I discussed it. We both agreed that the joke was fine, but context was key. And we both agreed that a raised hand would be our symbol should we need to say that joke again.
At the time, I was the most recent suicide attempt. She never really tried suicide, she was the self-harmer. I was the big guns.
I make jokes about suicide because it diminishes it. It breaks it down. It weakens it. I show my strength over suicide. I will forever joke about suicide because I know what it is like to be pushed to a cliff and step off it.
I make jokes about rape because I am a rape survivor. When people tell me rape jokes aren't funny, they usually haven't been raped. If I hear a rape joke and someone tells me that I'm awful for laughing, I look them dead in the eye and say "2 years, 50 occurrences, I've been raped enough to know when something is funny. What's your excuse?"
If I know anything from my studies, it is that you should never let someone else's morality become your executioner. I maintain amorality for the purpose of social interactions. I will not be the abuser when I am a coping mechanism.
I will not be made the bad guy for making a joke that she does not deal with. She is not suicidal. She is a self-harmer due to incredibly low self-worth, self-esteem, and her depression and anxiety, which, I feel, is perpetuated and made worse by her so-called friends who glamorise mental illness and are buckets of hate, stewing in on themselves, while I actively go out and seek relief and release.
I will continue making suicide jokes because I know what it is like. Having been that close that many times, one needs to joke about it. because even faking the pain away becomes a therapy after nothing else works.
I will not become the bad guy when this level of political correctness saves no one.
She wonders why I hide in my room, it's because she drains me. I have tried, time and time again to get her moving, out, about, smiling. I have spent hundreds of dollars on her happiness, I have tried hundreds of ideas to get her involved, nothing works. She wants to feel bad. And she takes that out on me for constantly moving. I have a new group of friends every few months because I can. It took her 3 years of shit for her to finally realise her friend, who I called bullshit on on day 1, was a shit friend. I don't take shit and I will search to make this right,
I'm so fucking done, how dare she bring up a reference to a joke as serious and try and make that her excuse for suffering.
No, no. Me saying "kill yourself" is not the cause of your sadness or today's "particularly hardness"
Maybe it's the Saw films in me right now, but the bes thing to do is to push someone across the line. Push them over the cliff. Watch them freefall. But grapple-gun them back. They will know death, pain, and suffering and change.
Make the cutter cut too deep and watch them panic. Then, when they are better, they won't do so again. Panic shows they don't want to die.
Watch them panic as they hold the noose or the pills. They don't want to die.
Once you realise you don't want to die, you move forward. Slowly but surely. And you will be better from it.
Do you want to know how I got these scars? It's by internalising everything for far too long. Do you want to know how you got those scars? You still do.
Grow up and realise they world will not stop because of you. It didn't stop for Madiba, it won't stop for you.
I beg the world to keep spinning, you expect it to stop. That is how we are different and that is how I am better.
I joined the world again, you wonder why it won't join you.
Do you really want me to hate you? Because it's working.
