This needs to fucking stop. I'm so sad right now, I'm crying. Eric James Borges contributed to the "It Gets Better" project, a series of videos by various people to let gay teens know that life will get better, and just keep hanging in there because there is hope.


January 12th, a month after he produced this video, Eric lost that hope and took his life.

I didn't know him, I won't pretend to, but this is just too much. The hate needs to stop. Life is hard enough. Never again will I tolerate someone hating homosexuals, or belittling us in any way. Fucking never.

I'm angry that it came to this, and that he surely isn't the only one hurting and struggling to find a reason just to go on every single day. I know I sometimes wonder why I go on living, why I don't just give up. I will go on for Eric, and for everyone else who has suffered so much and lost the fight. I will put my foot down for them and for the rest of us who are struggling to live in this world. This needs to fucking stop.

Yes, a wish.

True fucking story.

My mother has a history of mental illness.  Most of my childhood is filled with memories of her convulsing in a seizure that never seemed to end, or schizophrenic episodes, or her trying to kill herself.  And I was spared from most of it, being very detached from reality as a kid.

I remember eating jelly beans as a kid, and sorting out the black ones for my mom to eat.  Except that she fell asleep, and wouldn't wake up.  And then she started shaking.

I remember having friends over for the night, and watching with them from my bedroom window while my mom was put into an ambulance for what felt like the millionth time.

I remember her losing her memory and me having to follow her through a strange city with no shoes on.  She wanted to go for a walk and wouldn't wait.  She stopped at a house I'd never seen before because we'd never lived in that city, and her insisting that she lived there for years and planted the tree in the front yard.

I remember her freaking out because she thought that there were locusts and rats all over her body.

And her swallowing all of the pills in her prescription bottles.

This went on for YEARS.  It started when I was seven, as far as I even remember, and going on to junior high school (8th grade).

In 8th grade I met my first girlfriend, and consequently, I met one of her long-standing friends.

He was a lanky kid with shoulder-length greasy hair and a pimply face.  The first thing he ever said to me was, "Will you go out with me?"  I said "No."  He cheered, explaining that he was on a hot streak of rejections.

He told me that he was a druid.  He and my girlfriend very much enjoyed a variety of things that I can only describe as Tolkien-ish.  It was beyond my understanding, but it seemed very high fantasy.  It's still beyond my understanding.

One day he explained to me about wishes, and that for some reason or another (I might have done something to earn them, but I'm not sure) he owed me three wishes.

He begged me for days to make my wishes, but I waited.  Because even though wishes seem impossible, I wasn't careless enough to just throw them away.

Finally I told him one thing that I wanted.  I wanted my mom to be cured.  Medication was like a wild carousel of Not Helping.  She was either going to have a seizure and never wake up again, or she was going to kill herself.

He drew some symbols on the ground and did his thing.  Then he asked what else I wanted.  I told him I'd wait and see if my mom got better first.

I lost contact with him.  I have no idea where he is and haven't seen him again.

Since then my mother has never had an issue.  No seizures.  No schizophrenia.  No more chasing a woman who doesn't remember who I am.  She's gone from completely unstable, having her driver's license taken away, some sort of episode once a week at BEST, to having a job, living a normal life, just being... totally FINE.

I didn't even connect the dots until earlier this year.  I realized my life used to be a whirlwind of ambulances coming every damn night for my mom.  None of that happened anymore.  I told my friend about it.  He was skeptical, but he couldn't deny that my mom had gone from a total jar of rocks to a normal human being.  Coincidence, you could say, but f*ck you, it's magic!!!

One thing I learned, though, is that my mother is a massive bitch.  :/  You can't blame bipolar for everything.

So, you're welcome, mom.  I cured you with a druid's wish, and you don't even know.

Seriously.