Cracked down in a hail of police gunfire, under a lone street lamp. He died a hero’s death. It excites me. That is how I imagine my death. 

I want my death to have national attention. To be the lone gunman surrounded by hundreds of officers. On the stage in front of millions of people. All hoping I make a move. Gun in my right hand, one bullet in the clip. A casual smirk on my face as the S.W.A.T. officers stare down the sights of their fully loaded MP-5 submachine guns. 

The negotiator is called onto the scene. The attention makes my blood boil. He starts the cliche techniques, frustrated as they are clearly not working. He knows my mind is set on a certain agenda, yet has no idea what I want. 

I have made my mind up. I release the magazine and look it over. The same bullet remains. I slide it back in and cock my weapon. Tension is building. The officers start to advance. I raise my weapon to my head. People start screaming! They are all screaming for my safety. The negotiator is trying to talk me out of it.

Instead, I point it at the officers. They unload on my body. Bullets tearing through my flesh. I fight for my life by reaching for the gun that was blown from my hand. They shoot again as I lift it up. I lay bleeding on the ground fading in and out of consciousness. I stop fighting and finally expire. 

One officer kicks the weapon from my dead hand and checks my body’s pulse. My death received the national attention I wanted. I love it. 

(Source: thematicphilosophy)

Cracked down in a hail of police gunfire, under a lone street lamp. He died a hero’s death. It excites me. That is how I imagine my death. 

I want my death to have national attention. To be the lone gunman surrounded by hundreds of officers. On the stage in front of millions of people. All hoping I make a move. Gun in my right hand, one bullet in the clip. A casual smirk on my face as the S.W.A.T. officers stare down the sights of their fully loaded MP-5 submachine guns. 

The negotiator is called onto the scene. The attention makes my blood boil. He starts the cliche techniques, frustrated as they are clearly not working. He knows my mind is set on a certain agenda, yet has no idea what I want. 

I have made my mind up. I release the magazine and look it over. The same bullet remains. I slide it back in and cock my weapon. Tension is building. The officers start to advance. I raise my weapon to my head. People start screaming! They are all screaming for my safety. The negotiator is trying to talk me out of it.

Instead, I point it at the officers. They unload on my body. Bullets tearing through my flesh. I fight for my life by reaching for the gun that was blown from my hand. They shoot again as I lift it up. I lay bleeding on the ground fading in and out of consciousness. I stop fighting and finally expire. 

One officer kicks the weapon from my dead hand and checks my body’s pulse. My death received the national attention I wanted. I love it. 

thematicphilosophy:

I FUCKING HATE THEM!! They are disgusting little creatures. They are some home wrecking bastards. They show up in your room in the corner of your eye. Then when you get up to kill it, the motherfucker crawls onto the ceiling. Now you are living in fear because any second this piece of shit can come down and land on your face.

So you sit there eyeing that spider so when it crawls from the ceiling you can kill it. Then in a split second it disappears. They are crafty little motherfuckers. Why can’t they stay outside! Damn spiders!

Also, if you are one of those people who like to pick the spider up with a cup or paper and take it outside, FUCK YOU TOO! They just end up back in the house. 

(via thematicphilosophy)

            Is it because I do not post the same material as all the rest of these interchangeable blogs? Or is it because I actually write my feelings every once in a while? Or maybe, and this is on a whim, it is because I am not afraid to be the human behind a blog. Instead of signing on and reblogging what makes me laugh, I look for what interests me. What educates and stimulates my mind.

            Now my follower count is not extravagant. I am not “Tumblr Famous.” Nor am I even remotely attractive. So the content of my blog, and that alone, is what makes The Mad Science what it is. I am grateful that people would even follow this blog. They read my posts and give positive feedback. Thank you.

Depressing thoughts will always be racing through my head. It is up to me to decipher between what is a good thought and what is bad. I have come to accept that I am suffering from depression and anxiety. It is not a life threatening disease. I can work through this. 

I have come to accept that I am suffering from anger issues. I bottle things up until I explode. I have made plenty enemies because I am afraid to explain exactly what is going on. I do not know what is going on in my head. 

I am angry because I am losing the power I once had over my family

I am depressed because my self-esteem issues has affected my love life

I get anxious when I bottle my emotions.

I know what is wrong with me, yet I was so blind to it. 

thematicphilosophy:

It is the people on there. We have to see those shitty people we barely talked to in school on Facebook. Then we realize how annoying they are. 

• I don’t give a fuck if you went all the way to Hollywood to buy weed
• I don’t care if you love your gf/bf
• Your taste in music is shitty stop posting YouTube videos
• If you click a spam link one more fucking time and post it on my status i will cut you
• Using Instagram to take pictures of yourself does not make you a model nor a photographer
• No bitch I will not like your status if I am up. Just message people thirsty trick
• STOP TAKING SHIT FROM TUMBLR THEN ACTING LIKE YOU FOUND IT SOMEWHERE ELSE.

See it isn’t the site. Just the shitty people. Maybe I am just used to Tumblr where I don’t have to deal with stupid people from Facebook. I know I am not the only one who feels this way.

thematicphilosophy:

I have grown to understand that it’s ok to remember someone you used to care about. You just have to realize that the past isn’t always the past. There is always a time when things will come up and remind you of someone (like this post). I cared about her a lot. She cared about me even more, but we grew distant.

She grew out of herself and is lost. She will probably never be the girl I fell in love with. People change. I expect it. So I move on. Trouble is it’s hard to move on when you have nobody to move to. Sometimes it gets to me. It’s not her. It’s the fact that for my entire life I felt I meant nothing. I would never find someone who I would mean the world to. Then she comes along. My life is so twisted. Then I completely fuck it up. She is gone. My life is back to how it was before she came along. 

I don’t like it. Most people get with someone, break up, then start over. I have nothing, someone, then nothing. Only to be more miserable because I know how love feels.

Many would rather have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. I would rather have nothing than have love then lose it. 

(via thematicphilosophy)

            I was only in that hospital for 3 days. There are people who spend their entire lives institutionalized. Bouncing from hospital to hospital. Taking handfuls of different pills every day just to be normal. These people do not have problems. They have disorders. They are disabled. I have personally seen a grown man scream and claw on the walls one minute, and cry his eyes out the next. I have seen people suffer from Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia.

           That life is not for most of us who complain about what goes on in our lives. Once you are forced to go to a hospital like that, you will realize just how insignificant your problems are. I bet there are hundreds or even thousands of people on Tumblr alone who can relate. 

           I have officially spent the night int this place. It is hard to describe sleeping with a roommate with the door open. I do know how to describe being woken up at four in the morning by a nurse with a flashlight in one hand and a butterfly needle in the other. Scariest thing ever. She could have easily flipped the lights on. They are not that bright. Anyway the nurse is now taking my blood. One after another she connects the vials to the tube until she has what she needs. Then she attaches a cuff to my arm to take my blood pressure. 130/ 87, it is always that. Then back to sleep I go.

         I am then woken up again by a member of the floor staff. His name is Jorge and I learn he will be the main guy to report to. I ask him what time it is and it is breakfast time. I have not eaten since Tuesday and I am starving. So I follow Jorge to the front desk to meet up with everyone who is going to the dining room. I notice there is a new girl who arrived during the night. She is pretty cute. I decide to keep my eye on her. She looks asian. Like Korean. 

         The dining room is like a small staff cafeteria. It is my first time here so I am just following what everyone else is doing. The breakfast is not bad, but it is not great either. I ask for eggs, hashbrown, ham and grits. The eggs taste like… well not like eggs that’s for true. The hash browns needs ketchup. The ham is really thick and wattery and the grits are just god awful. 

          Process group is next and the new girl does not feel comfortable talking so I take over the group. After we finish we have a smoke break. I can tell she wants to talk to someone but nobody has approached her. So I ask her if she wants to join me in the courtyard. She agrees and we sit outside and talk. Just saying who we are and why we are here. I also find out she is Apache Indian which is really cool. 

          Lunch passes by and a couple more groups along with new people. It is two o’ clock and it is gym time. I want to get to know this girl more. Her name is Cassie. So I ask her if she was going to go to the gym. There is nothing better to do so she agrees. The gym consists of two basketball hoops. One is nine feet tall and the other is ten feet tall. There are also badminton rackets and a foam football along with hoola hoops. I pass the ball to Cassie and she does not hesitate to shoot it. She makes it! Then makes another! And another! I finally ask if she plays basketball. Since she was in the third grade. Athletic, now i am really interested. So we clean up and walk back to unit 2A.

          Back in the group room she sits down. I sit down across from her and start chatting her up. Asking her about her style and if she goes to school. By the time I look up it is now bed time.           

(Source: thematicphilosophy)

I always thought i was alone. That nobody understood what I was going through. There is no worse problem than mine. 

But then I went to therapy. I needed professional help with my troubles. It is pretty effective. Therapy is not for crazy people. Crazy people do not know when they need help. 

If you are depressed and are having suicidal thoughts then reach out. Tell somebody. You can find help in the least likely places. Call a friend. Or call a hotline if you want to remain anonymous. People want to help you. They care for you. 

Just do not think you can handle things on your own. Think about it. Has it been working on your own this far?

           I have officially spent the night int this place. It is hard to describe sleeping with a roommate with the door open. I do know how to describe being woken up at four in the morning by a nurse with a flashlight in one hand and a butterfly needle in the other. Scariest thing ever. She could have easily flipped the lights on. They are not that bright. Anyway the nurse is now taking my blood. One after another she connects the vials to the tube until she has what she needs. Then she attaches a cuff to my arm to take my blood pressure. 130/ 87, it is always that. Then back to sleep I go.

         I am then woken up again by a member of the floor staff. His name is Jorge and I learn he will be the main guy to report to. I ask him what time it is and it is breakfast time. I have not eaten since Tuesday and I am starving. So I follow Jorge to the front desk to meet up with everyone who is going to the dining room. I notice there is a new girl who arrived during the night. She is pretty cute. I decide to keep my eye on her. She looks asian. Like Korean. 

         The dining room is like a small staff cafeteria. It is my first time here so I am just following what everyone else is doing. The breakfast is not bad, but it is not great either. I ask for eggs, hashbrown, ham and grits. The eggs taste like… well not like eggs that’s for true. The hash browns needs ketchup. The ham is really thick and wattery and the grits are just god awful. 

          Process group is next and the new girl does not feel comfortable talking so I take over the group. After we finish we have a smoke break. I can tell she wants to talk to someone but nobody has approached her. So I ask her if she wants to join me in the courtyard. She agrees and we sit outside and talk. Just saying who we are and why we are here. I also find out she is Apache Indian which is really cool. 

          Lunch passes by and a couple more groups along with new people. It is two o’ clock and it is gym time. I want to get to know this girl more. Her name is Cassie. So I ask her if she was going to go to the gym. There is nothing better to do so she agrees. The gym consists of two basketball hoops. One is nine feet tall and the other is ten feet tall. There are also badminton rackets and a foam football along with hoola hoops. I pass the ball to Cassie and she does not hesitate to shoot it. She makes it! Then makes another! And another! I finally ask if she plays basketball. Since she was in the third grade. Athletic, now i am really interested. So we clean up and walk back to unit 2A.

          Back in the group room she sits down. I sit down across from her and start chatting her up. Asking her about her style and if she goes to school. By the time I look up it is now bed time.           

          I am now en route to Canyon Ridge. It is around four in the morning by the time we arrive. My belongings are already bagged from Kaiser so the process is slightly faster than others. While i’m strapped in the stretcher I get my picture taken for filing purposes and moved into Unit 2A of the Adult wing. It is past bedtime so I am alone with the staff while they get paperwork together for my assessment. So I am sitting in a wooden chair with nothing but a hospital gown on. 

         They finally get my paperwork ready for me to sign and as this is happening the residents are starting to emerge from their bedrooms. I quickly realize that there are patients that are my age. One girl sat next to me and started talking. She smelled of dirt and cigarette smoke. She takes me outside to introduce me to the other patients my age before the floor staff calls me back inside. At this point I want to go home, but I know I am not allowed there anymore. I am then allowed to go back outside and I smoke a cigarette one resident hands me. The staff member lights it for me and I start conversing with the residents outside. 

        I learn how high the turnover rate there is when the people I meet are discharged and quickly replaced with others. I am alone for a bit until another person my age comes. I then realize he is gay. Which is no problem, except he tends to stand to close to me. The staff points me to a grid on the wall and tells me how it should be read. It shows the days and times of activities in the ward. It is now time for the first process group. Surprisingly I open up and explain what led me here and am welcome with open arms. It makes me feel better about being in the hospital. 

       By this time I am able to put on my clothes. I get to make phone calls so I call my mother. She is not answering. I call back thirty minutes later; still no answer. So I start to become depressed. I get through all the activities and get my blood drawn. They tell me I have a bed in a room. I also have a roommate. He is a man in his late 50’s early 60’s who sleeps all day. So I put my stuff on my side of the room and sleep in my bed.

        I had a mental breakdown. I do not remember much of what happened. One minute I am on the laptop and the next minute I am chasing my father out of the front door with a kitchen knife. Then the door locked and I am shut inside with a six inch blade in my hand and suicidal thoughts running through my mind. My mom keeps calling and pleading with me. She does not want me to die. She tells me how much she loves me. Asking me to open the door for her. She comes home from work and had my dad in the car. I put the knife down and went outside to look for my father. She tried stopping me from walking up to his car but it was too late. He was scared. Scared of his own son and I could see the fear in his eyes. I started banging on the car window trying to scare him. He then drove off and called the police. 

      With a single cigarette lit in my right hand I started walking inside and waited, and waited. Waiting until they came to get me. I wanted the officers to kill me. I was ready to die, but I am impatient. I walk outside and start walking up the street when I see them. My parents in the 7-11 parking lot with two police cars around them. I stand still and take a single drag from my Marlboro and wait. They spot me and tell me to stay still. So I drop my cigarette and start laughing maniacally. They pull up beside me and draw their guns before realizing I am unarmed. While patting me down they ask me if I have a knife on me and throw my lighter out. I keep asking if I am being arrested and they would not answer. So I would not talk. The officer then stands me up and cuffs me. They put me in the back of the car and take me to where my parents are. My mother tells them to take me to the hospital. My father tells them to take me to jail. They decide to take me to Kaiser for a psych evaluation and label me suicidal. 

      At the hospital they have me strip down and put on a gown. It is so late at night that I am in the crowded emergency room. I am then placed on a seventy-two hour mandatory psych hold. Since the hospital does not have a psych facility on the lot I am going to a place called Canyon Ridge in Chino, CA. Until the EMT comes to take me I wait in an emergency room bed.

That’s probably one of the several reasons why I can’t find affection. People can’t see themselves with me. They don’t consider me “cute” enough to be seen in public. 

Eh they’re missing out on a lot. 

thematicphilosophy:

I FUCKING HATE THEM!! They are disgusting little creatures. They are some home wrecking bastards. They show up in your room in the corner of your eye. Then when you get up to kill it, the motherfucker crawls onto the ceiling. Now you are living in fear because any second this piece of shit can come down and land on your face.

So you sit there eyeing that spider so when it crawls from the ceiling you can kill it. Then in a split second it disappears. They are crafty little motherfuckers. Why can’t they stay outside! Damn spiders!