There’s nothing wrong with being driven. And there’s nothing wrong with putting yourself first to reach your goals
—  Shonda Rhimes

Painless methods of suicide? Are you serious? There are no painless methods of suicide. Sure, bringing a bullet to your brain will only hurt for thirty seconds and overdosing on prescription pills will only feel like food poisoning, but what about everyone else? what about your parents who will carry the burden of responsibility of your death because they didn’t know the warning signs? what about your siblings who will walk past your vacant room every day, sobbing, ‘If only I had found them sooner!’? What about your best friend who will cut open her skin repetitively believing they deserve it because they couldn’t read through your lies when you said you were okay? What about your teachers and classmates, who will have an intense wave of heartache when they look around and see your empty chair, every time? What about the people that made fun of you, whether serious or not, who will end up abusing drugs and alcohol because it’s the only thing that makes them forget? What about everyone who you’d only spoken one word to, who will grieve a stranger’s loss because ‘they should’ve smiled at you’? And what about the children you’ve babysat that look up to? What if they think it’s okay to do that to themselves?

So yeah, you might feel fine. But I promise you, others won’t.


Monty Oum has been hospitalised, is in critical care, and it is not known if he will recover. Aside from sending good thoughts and prayers his way, his family and friends have set up a gofundme to help pay the medical expenses, so if you have ANY extra money at all, please donate here


U.S. Veterans Hospital - Boise, Idaho

Mailed from Boise, Idaho to Mr. & Mrs. Walt Roseman of Lakota, Iowa on September 8, 1942:

Dear Friends,
Thanks for your card. Do you think it is nice to tell a fellow how good the cat fish are biting when he is flat on his back? Was operated on 10 days ago, have 11 more days to stay in bed. Am feeling fine. When are you folks going to take a vacation and come out and see us? Peaches have been ripe for some time. Sunshine every day.
As ever, Ed.

My Favorite Jewelry

The men in the white coats gave me gifts
and they’re beautiful:
the patches of algae-green
tinged with navy blue,
the burbling of blood
yet to reach oxygen
right below the surface of my white, white skin
swallowing the length of my arms.
One vein has pushed its way to the top now
and left a ridge.

It hurts.

I love it.
I love it because
for now I matter.
For now
the pain,
the limitations
are written on my skin,
not hanging from my rear view mirror
in my car,
in parking lots where criticizing eyes
dart back and forth
at the teen girl
with no problems.
I am too visible.

I am invisible
when it comes to what matters most.

It is cold outside,
but I don’t care
because right now
I am going to role up my sleeves,
and accessorize with my armfuls
of earth-colored jewelry.

I’m going to be seen.
—  Haley aka Journalistpoet

It is with great regret that I must inform you that our co-worker and our dear friend, Monty Oum, has had a medical emergency. He is currently hospitalized in critical care and it is not known if he will recover. He is receiving the best medical care possible and is surrounded by both family and…

I do not know Mont Oum personally. Never met him, shook his hand or any of that. But I always felt like I had found a kindred spirit. I discovered Monty and his works purely by accident—a simple, innocent sketch swap request of Weiss Schnee. As with all my art, I was doing research and watched the White Trailer. From that moment on, I knew I was hooked. It takes a special kind of person to be able to build a story and world like that, to utilize all the tools in his arsenal to bring to life characters that most people can identify with and relate to. My next step was to find out more about this man. Dead Fantasy was so beautifully animated, and it was his earlier works!

As I usually do, when I become fascinated with someone, I start to research them personally. Their thinking processes and reasoning becomes a point of interest to me, and I found a lot of that in various interviews and tweets from him personally. Though I will never know him, I was able to conclude that we were two of the same mind in many things. It was kind of an affirmation for me, and it inspired me to work harder at my own creative projects. He took one of the top places in my list of “rivals” (not actual rivals, just people I use as measuring tools for each level I want to achieve in various skills). His involvement with the fandom was heartwarming. He seemed to really connect and understand people. He seemed to really enjoy teasing the fans, giving them hints and tidbits and working to make his characters cosplay-able. He looked and used inspirational images and designs much the same way I do. I seriously would love to meet this man, shake his hand, and thank him for unknowingly encouraging me to pursue my passion with a fevor that I never imagined I had.

And now, I don’t know if that will be possible. He is in the hospital, in critical condition—-and no word on why or if he will even come out of the hospital. Between allergies, asthma, and working far too hard sometimes…it isn’t too much of a wonder that he collapsed, but are those the reasons? Well, I guess that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that he recovers, that he gets back on his feet—because he is not the kind to waste a moment of valuable time. Remember that fanfic that I wrote? It was called Aura Rage and it showed a scene of Ren pleading with Nora to come back awake, to move and laugh and talk again. It pains me that this scene has literally come to life. Monty is Nora and the fandom, co-workers, etc—are Ren. We all know that Monty is the kind to work, to move. That is what he does. Lying in a hospital bed, unmoving and silent is just NOT Monty. His passion, his life, is making stuff. Creating. Animating. Dancing. That is what he should be doing right now. He should be living! Not in critical condition—that is not how Monty is. While I don’t know the man personally, I vehemently want him to get better and quickly. And not for the sake of the show, RWBY. For his sake. Because…well, that is what he deserves. He has given so much to this world and the community through RWBY and his other animations. He deserves to be well, to be happy and moving around. He has earned it, damn it.

At this point, there is only one thing that I can do. Spread the word about the donation fund for his medical expenses. One thing I hate about the medical system is the fact that a seriously sick or hurt person literally can not afford it—-it kills everything financially. Just a couple of days in critical care has probably eaten up half of their income already, not to mention the fact that bills and rent and such don’t wait. I have no money (benefit of being poor and self employed) so all I can do is write up my emotions, hope and cross my fingers that he does get well (I am not religious, so praying isn’t much either) and spread the word for those that can to support what you can. It is small, but at least it is better than nothing. Some day…someday I can do these things, step in and help more.  For now, I can listen to the RWBY soundtrack, watch RWBY and maybe Dead Fantasy again, and just….wait.

anonymous asked:

could you maybe do a newmann fic about them facing homophobia in some way (and if you do could you tag it prhomophobia?)

Newt arrives at the hospital at a run, crashing through two doors and skidding into reception- “I’m here to-” he chokes, swallows, tries to catch his breath, “I’m here to see Hermann- Hermann Gottlieb, do you know what ward-“

"I’m afraid visiting hours are over," the man at the desk frowns at him over his glasses, "It you’ll come back at eleven tomorrow-"

"Look," Newt draws a breath, holds up his hand, "I’m his husband, I just need to see him-"

The nurse’s mouth thins until it almost disappears, “Do you have your marriage certificate?”

"My- what-" Newt’s mouth opens, "I just heard he got taken to hospital- I didn’t have time-"

"Then I’m afraid you simply will have to wait," the man gives him a sickly grin, "Come back in the morning;"

For a moment, Newt cannot even speak, just standing speechless at the desk, a dull, heavy weight in his stomach and his mouth too dry to move;

"Please move," the man doesn’t even hide his distaste now, "People in actual need may require this desk,"

"Look," Newt should be shouting, but it comes out a croak; he should be angry, but everything inside him feels heavy and dead, "Just- I need to know, is he okay- I just heard that he was taken in, I don’t know-"

"I’m quite sure I shouldn’t be giving that out," the bastard doesn’t even look up, delicately picking up a file and pointedly ignoring Newt;

Newt leans forwards, and the file is covered at once and now the anger hits, “Just tell me he’s okay!” He screams;

Everyone in the waiting room is staring, and Newt feels his face burn, his eyes prick, “For all I know you are a total stranger- or even, some pervert-” the nurse’s eyes glitter in loathing, “Now get out, before I have you removed,”

Newt leaves, the world blurring around him and his hands shaking so hard he has to try three times before he gets Tendo’s number up,

"Newt- what’s up it’s like two in the morning-"

"Hermann’s in hospital," and god, the breath catches in his throat, "They won’t let him see him- the little shit at the desk won’t even tell me if he’s okay-” his voice shatters, he sobs;

"Okay, okay-" Tendo’s voice sounds more awake, "Shit just- calm down, breathe-"

Newt chokes, sits down on the step outside the hospital, the night is biting cold, the tears burn down his face, “I’m getting ready to go, just tell me what you need;”

"M-my marriage certificate, it’s int he top draw of Hermann’s desk, if you can get it-"

"Newt," Tendo’s voice is soft, "I don’t have the keys;"

And that’s just too much- the world shatters and Newt howls, burrowing himself into a ball and rocking on the freezing concrete,

"It’s okay," Tendo’s voice comes in and out, he must be getting dressed, "Shh, it’s going to be okay- look, Mako and Raleigh are camping at my house, they’re coming too; you’re at Warren General, right-"

Newt nods, realises Tendo can’t see him, and manages a shaky “Y-yeah,”

"Okay, we’re all coming, I’ll get your keys and get your certificate, and Raleigh and Mako will stay with you- Mako’s talking about getting Stacker along too when she can wake him- let’s see what you little shit will make of them,"

Newt gives a suffocated laugh somewhere under the snot and tears,

"Yeah, that’s right, it’s gonna be okay- we’re getting in the car now; we’ll be with your in fifteen- just hang on-"

Newt nods, any words lost; the first flakes of snow are starting to drift down and he shivers, feeling freezing cold inside and out.

I'm going to the hospital.

My parents found out I was planning to kill myself today. I’m pretty sure they’re gonna take away my phone so idk when or if I’ll be updating this blog soon.
I love you all and thank you to everyone that’s tried to reach out to me in this difficult time. You were a big help, but I need some serious help.