first off, this is a website about you.
how long has it been since you last felt happy?
and not that fake kind of happy where you smile and nod and say “i’m good, just tired.” i mean really happy. calm. light. safe. maybe you remember. maybe you don’t. maybe you’re not sure if that ever actually happened or if it was just something you imagined, once upon a time.
either way, you're here now. and that matters.
i’m not here to tell you some cheesy shit like “you’re stronger than you think” or “things always get better.” maybe they do. maybe they don’t. maybe they get better and then worse and then weird and then something else entirely. i don’t know your story. but if you’re reading this, chances are you’ve had at least one of those nights. the kind where you’re scrolling endlessly, wondering if anything is worth sticking around for. wondering if anyone would even notice if you didn’t wake up tomorrow.
and if that’s you right now... hi. i’m glad you found this.
i’ll give you this link. it’s helped me before. maybe it’ll help you too. or maybe not. but just in case you’re not ready to go just yet—i hope you’ll keep reading. this entire mess of words is for you.
i’ll be real with you. i’m not some mental health expert or certified life coach or enlightened being. i’m just a person who’s been thinking about dying since they were way too young to even understand what that meant. i’ve had more attempts than birthdays that made sense. i’ve stood at the edge—literally—and felt absolutely nothing. no panic, no fear. just quiet. cold. and not the peaceful kind. the kind that eats at you slowly, like rust.
i’ve tried hanging, OD’ing, cutting. i’ve written goodbye notes and wills. i’ve stared at the ceiling for hours, trying to convince myself to just get it over with. and yeah, sometimes the fact that i’m still here pisses me off. like why didn’t it work? what am i still doing here?
but other times... i’m kind of glad it didn’t. not because everything is fixed. far from it. i’m still figuring things out. still have bad days. but i’ve started to realize that maybe life isn’t something you solve. maybe it’s just something you live. and surviving it? that’s already enough.
so here’s what i’ve figured out so far:
life isn’t a goal. it’s not a to-do list. it’s not about finding some big purpose or making your parents proud or becoming someone “successful.” it’s just... weird. and unpredictable. and sometimes soft and beautiful in the smallest moments. and if you’re only alive because of pure stubbornness right now, that counts too.
you don’t need a reason to stay alive. you don’t need to be productive, or inspiring, or healed. you just have to be. full stop.
you’re allowed to be tired. to feel broken. to feel angry at everything and everyone, including yourself. you’re allowed to scream into your pillow or go totally silent. but please, stay.
stay for one more breath. then another. then maybe a cup of tea. or a dumb meme. or a midnight snack that you’re not even hungry for but still kinda want. stay for the tiny stuff. because sometimes, the tiny stuff is what saves us.
try this: tomorrow morning, eat something. anything. toast, cereal, a spoonful of peanut butter. just don’t skip it. drink some water. splash cold water on your face. brush your teeth even if it feels pointless. it's not.
take a walk. even if it’s just around the block or to your mailbox. let your body feel something different than the bed or the chair. play a song you’ve never heard before. maybe something weird, like electro swing or japanese jazz fusion or ambient viking synth.
write a poem that doesn’t rhyme. draw a scribble. name your plants. or if you don’t have any, name a rock. i named one of mine greg.
do something meaningless. and in doing that, it becomes meaningful. because you’re still here to do it.
look, i know the voice in your head. the one that says “i’m too much,” or “i’m a burden,” or “no one cares anyway.” it lies. constantly. it’s like a really shitty roommate who never pays rent and just criticizes you all day. kick that voice out. or at least stop listening to it like it's gospel.
the fact that you're still here? still breathing, even if it hurts? that makes you a fighter. and i don't mean in some heroic, movie-worthy way. i mean in the quiet, messy, everyday kind of way. the kind that doesn't make headlines but changes lives—starting with your own.
and yeah, maybe you still want to die. maybe nothing i've said changes that. but i hope, just for a minute, you realize you don’t have to do anything today. you don’t have to fix yourself. or explain yourself. or prove you’re worth loving.
you already are.
i used to think life had to be big. grand. full of meaning. now i think life can just be... small. and that’s okay. a good cup of coffee. a warm blanket. hearing your favorite song in a random café. finding an old hoodie that still smells like someone you loved. a cat rubbing against your leg like you’re important. these things are real. and they matter.
you matter. even if your mind screams otherwise.
even if you’re crying while reading this. even if you’re numb. even if all you did today was breathe and maybe drink some water. that is enough. you’re enough.
and maybe, eventually, this site becomes more. maybe a guestbook, or a place for strangers to leave little messages of hope. maybe a chat, or a journal, or a space to scream into the void and have the void scream back, “same.” but for now, it's just this. just me and you and some pixels and some pain.
but also? some hope. even if it’s tiny and hidden under layers of sarcasm and exhaustion. it’s there. and it’ll grow. slowly. like a plant you forgot to water but somehow didn’t die.
i believe in you. even if you don’t.
from 2022 to whatever year you're in when you find this—i'm still here. and i’m glad you are too.
and if you’re still curious, try typing a slash and your name at the end of this link (like mentalhealthisdangerous.neocities.org/me) for a small personal message. maybe dumb. maybe sweet. either way, it’s yours.
you're doing great, buddy. even if you think you're not.
stay. just a little longer. just for now. just for you.
and if nobody’s told you today: i love you. i really do. not the fake kind. the real kind. the “i know how it feels and i’m so fucking proud of you for still being here” kind.
giant internet hug incoming. don’t duck it. you deserve it.