In, and Out.

The chest tightens to the point of shallow breath

As if there are 100 tons pressing down on your chest

Remember to breathe, back to the basics

In, and out.

Words are being said and mouths are moving

But all I hear is a buzzing in my ear

Take another breath, close your eyes if you have to

Grab someone’s hand and allow them to pick you up

Wrap your arms around yourself and hold tight

In, and out.

In, and out.

It’s not your fault, don’t keep blaming yourself

Don’t be your punching bag

Distract your thoughts and clear your mind

But be kind

Be kind to yourself

Don’t throw all you have away

It’s not your fault

In, and out

Don’t be ashamed of your feelings

Try to understand them

Talk through them

Help solve them

In, and out.

You’re not alone

Don’t feel alone

But how can you not when you’re blaming yourself

All you can do is the basics

In, and out.

In, and out.

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The Disadvantages of Being Your Own Savior

Savior. Noun.

a person who saves someone or something from danger

Late Latin “salvare” – to save

For these past few years, I’ve had to be my own savior. I’ve had to be the one to save myself from the clutches of my mind and the remnants of memories I choose to repress. I’ve been the one to stand up for myself against people who have judged me, bullied me, physically harmed me, sexually assaulted me, emotionally damaged me, and have purposely set out to hurt me. And let me tell you something.

It’s exhausting.

In the past, I used to be a very openly emotional person. Freely expressing happiness, anger, sadness, excitement, etc. Then came certain people and they gave me lessons that made me realize that it was my weakness. So I built up my walls, poured cement in between, and never looked back. I became a stone, I became strong, but mostly, I became someone who never showed their feelings.

This was a mistake.

I never meant to do it on purpose, but when enough people have hurt you over and over again in many different ways emotionally, physically, and mentally, there becomes no choice. I was stuck in that place of trying to decide how to protect myself, how to save myself from these people. So I became my own savior by repressing my emotions and hiding from people. I became emotionally disconnected with friends and my family. I never opened up to them when I needed help because I knew that the only person I could depend on was me. Ultimately, that’s how my experience has been.

No one has ever stood up for me. Ever.

I never had anyone tell another person off who was hurting me, nor did I ever have anyone be able to stand up and fight for me. What does that even feel like? I have no idea. I’m always the one who has to stand up and fight for myself.

The only problem is that when I do, it’s written off as me having a breakdown.

How messed up is that? I stand up for myself and suddenly I’m made to feel bad for doing so. I’m made to feel that my emotions aren’t important enough to be heard. I’m made to feel that I am somehow below people constantly. I’m made to feel like the secondary person. That everything I say can’t be taken seriously because I’m not the standard of society’s “normal” concerning mentality.

It’s bullshit. Plain and simple. It’s bullshit.

People who make you feel like you have done something wrong, or make you feel like you are the second choice, or make you feel like you will never achieve anything higher than where you are. What purpose do they get out of constantly hurting someone on purpose? What kind of person wakes up in the morning and actively hurts someone and then justifies it with an excuse for something they did? It’s people like this that cause my dilemma. They’re the ones who make it a disadvantage of being my own savior.

Because sometimes, you’re pushed down so much, that you can’t keep crawling out of the hole. I want someone to stand up for me, to give me that hand and lift me up.

I don’t know what that feels like, but I wish people could grow a backbone and stand up for others. I just can’t understand people who don’t do that. That’s the way I live by, I can’t sit around and watch someone get treated terribly. I will step in and help them, that’s just who I am. I won’t stay quiet when coming to their defense. I make sure I’m someone’s “person”. But here’s the thing.

Where is my person?

Do I not deserve one? Have I somehow committed so many wrongs and deserve the cruelty from so many people?

I think the worse part is that some people will read this and think that what I’m saying isn’t valid or justified. If you’re that person, I respect that you have an opinion. But you’re wrong.

There are secrets I have told no one, there are experiences I can barely remember because they’re pushed so far back. I deal with all of this on my own, I try not to ask for help because I have been conditioned not to. There are so many repercussions with how I deal with everything. It may just be because the current school year is ending for me, but my severe depression has felt like 10 tons of concrete laying on top of my chest for the past 3 months and it is taking everything I have not to show how much it is affecting me. I’m sure I seem more stressed and sad, but no one, and I mean no one, is aware of how much I have been holding myself together with strength and will.

I might seem like I’m okay, but trust me, I am not.

Again, that’s my fault because I don’t open up to people fully because I’m afraid of the on slot of emotions that will come spilling out of me. I’m afraid I will push people away if they truly knew how I was doing.

So I protect other people from myself, and I try to save myself all on my own.

This isn’t a noble task. It isn’t cool to not care. You wanna know what’s something to admire? Someone who shows their emotions and feelings and is able to go through the day and not lie to people. I wish I could be that person. I wish I didn’t have the constant responsibility of keeping everything on my shoulders, but that’s who I am. I’m my own savior. I’m my person.

But that isn’t working out so well anymore.

I recognize that I can’t keep doing this to myself, it’s surely not good for my health nor is it going to get me any good favors in living longer. If you see someone struggling, help them. Because the people that seem that they’re doing okay despite everything, are barely surviving and screaming out for someone to help them. For someone to stand up for them. Everyone wants their own hero. I just want to stop being my only savior.

 

 

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Change for the Modern Day Angry Person

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Before I start this off, yes you read that title correctly. There are no typos or wrong words, that is what this is about. There ultimately not one main story in this, there isn’t going to be a specific topic I’m going to focus on. This is for the people who are angry and don’t know what to do. For the people who are angry about things, they’re told they should just let go. Well, I’m going to let go. Let go of the feelings and reactions I have to various things here.

“One thing the gay rights movement taught the world is the importance of being visible.” – Charles M. Blow

There was recently a special on TV during my Spring Break. It was called When We Rise and it was one of the most amazing things I have watched in my entire life. If you have no idea what I’m talking about or have not heard about it, go watch it. It will change your life. It starts off in the 1970’s and goes all the way into 2016 and talks about the struggles that the LGBTQIA community faced when it first started campaigning and continues to face in our modern day society. This is all based on true stories of a boy named Cleeve Jones who became the leading activist for LGBT, Navy Sailor Ken Jones who became an organizer for African American communities as well as being an activist for the LGBT community, Roma Guy who surged through the Women’s Right Movement and split it in half by joining the Lavender Menace, and Celia Chung who became a strong Transgender Activist and an even stronger Woman in Power. This show starts with the Stonewall Riots in 1969 and continues into the AIDS epidemic in the 80’s and keeps storming through into Bill Clinton’s presidency of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell as well as the Supreme Court Ruling on Marriage Equality and leaves off with the current struggle for Transgender Rights and the threats of current government administrators. This show made me want to take up a sign and riot. This show made me angry that I had not done enough for this community; that I only displayed compassion but had no direct actions for it. I feel that modern day society has so many people talking about the change they want to make, or about how angry they are that something is happening, but no one does anything because either they don’t care enough, or they’re too afraid of the reactions that could come from it. So watch this show. Watch it if you want to become educated, watch it if you want to feel empowered to do something, watch it if you want to develop compassion for those in the community, watch it if you disagree with everything about it. Just watch it. Because for the love of everything, MAKE THE STRUGGLE KNOWN. ONE STRUGGLE. ONE FIGHT.

“Some people think mental illness is a matter of mood, a matter of personality. They think depression is simply a form of being sad, that OCD is a form of being uptight. They think the soul is sick, not the body. It is, they believe, something that you have some choice over.” – David Levithan

This one is going to touch on Mental Illness in a different way in which I have not spoken. If someone is going to talk about Mental Illness, I would expect this person to either suffer from one, know someone suffering, or be educated. If someone is speaking about Mental Illness with no education or experience with it, let me be frank here. I don’t want to hear it. You wouldn’t trust someone without a medical background to diagnose you with cancer, would you? Then why the hell, are people listening to others who have no education or experience with Mental Illness and taking that as the Gospel to follow. Let me also ask this, who do people think they are telling someone what to do when they have no experience with it? If I could have a dollar for everytime someone told me to “Get over it” or “Just be happy” then I wouldn’t be taking out a loan for my loans right now. It is absolutely ridiculous how people deem themselves the right and proper person to talk about something that they have no idea about. Especially in a society where Mental Illness is still looked down upon and not taken seriously. Oh, society has come leaps and bounds from where it was before, but this does not make it okay. People in society still believe that people with Mental Illness are faking it, or just need to move on with their life. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having people pretend to know what they’re talking about, I’m tired of people pushing others around because they think they’re superior because of mentality, I’m tired of people who look down on others with Mental Illness, but mostly, I’m tired of people who try to invalidate one’s mental illness. If you have ever done this, how dare you. How do you manage to speak without any empathy or understanding for anything but your own life? There are so many resources out there for people to educate themselves on every topic, so there is no excuse for your ignorance and unkind doings. Ask questions, look topics up, increase your knowledge. Do something for crying out loud instead of just sitting there and making people feel bad for something they can’t control. Don’t look down on someone who can’t get out of bed to do anything one day, don’t look down on someone who you don’t know. If you’re so concerned with everyone else’s decisions and lifestyles and have a negative opinion for everything, do you have a life of your own that you’re living or do you just assume that this is your own world and everyone else is just living in it?

“Change your thoughts and you change your world.” – Norman Vincent Peale

I have been working on myself lately, and I have vowed to start making more of a difference. To start taking a stand and defending my own points of view. To start fighting for rights that are not there. If I can help one person in this world, then I have made one difference for someone. I’m tired of being sad, I’m ready to be angry. This isn’t to say I’m not still going to be sad because that’s just how Depression works and I can’t remember ever not being sad, but I’m going to be angry as well. There are going to be my days where I can’t get out of bed and where I can’t think of any thoughts other than negative ones, but for the days where I’m doing okay, I’m going to start doing something. I’m going to bring up points in class if I disagree with something, and I’m going to go to protests and rallies that are planned because nothing is getting done with everyone being afraid of offending others. Go out and do something, make a donation, volunteer, educate yourself, protest, rally, march, call your Senators if something upsetting is going through the government. The time for people to be angry is now. We have the means to change and the amount of compassion to act, we just need to actually do it. If you don’t see any injustice in the world, then maybe you need to look in the mirror; because you might be apart of it.

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An Open Letter To My Professors About My Mind

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Dear Professors,

Hey, how’s it going? You all know my name and we get along really well which is great. I love going to a small liberal school where I can get to know my professors so well. I enjoy our conversations about what I’m doing in my free time and our similar interests. Sadly, there’s something I need to talk about. Here at our small liberal art school, we have the “happy” student. Well, my dear professors, I am not that happy student and I’m scared to tell most of you about it.

When I come into your class, you probably see this girl who looks a little tired but has a large coffee and muffin with her. You know, the typical college student. But there are some things that you don’t see.

You don’t see that I had to rush to get out of bed and get ready because it was so hard for me to get up and do something. When all I want to do is lie there and cry most days. You don’t see that I have that muffin because of my idiocy where I down all of my medications with water and then realize I need food in my body before I get sick. I have that coffee because I honestly can’t stay awake without caffeine. It’s an actual addiction, I’ll get severe headaches if I don’t grab coffee. You don’t see how little time I actually spend on myself in the morning and how that’s a huge accomplishment for me because I don’t obsess about every single thing I’m wearing or how I look. You don’t see the constant wheels turning in my head about every assignment I have to do today or everything I wasn’t able to complete. You don’t see me having a panic attack because I try my hardest to repress it from people. You don’t see me flinch when someone hands me something or see my hand clench up when someone I don’t know sits behind me. The funny thing is, if you look at where I always sit in class, it’s normally the back where I can lean on the wall. And if it’s not, then there’s someone I trust and care about sitting behind me instead. You aren’t able to closely look at me because if you did, you would see the deep circles underneath my eyes that are from the constant night terrors I have when I’m alone. You would see my hands and the scars that are scattered on the surface. You also aren’t able to see the absolute misery in my eyes some days or the panic. You don’t see that I reward myself for just getting up in the morning or getting through the night alone. You would also see makeup on my hands, arms and mainly around my eyes that I use to make sure you can’t see any of it. But sometimes I break and I can’t keep up this facade.

Last week a professor was next to me as I was having a severe panic attack while doing an individual assessment. I pretty much failed it, but I have no idea if he knew what was happening. A few weeks ago I had a complete breakdown and had to e-mail my professors that I wasn’t going to be in class because I had to go home and get help. One of those professors was so concerned that they contacted campus security and had them go check on me. The next time that professor saw me I was back in their class and was struggling to not break down because I had come back too soon. I had to go tell another professor I couldn’t participate in class because I already had 7 panic attacks during the day and I couldn’t get up in front of people. It was 10:30 a.m that day. The total of panic attacks for the rest of the day was in the double digits. I had to tell my professors what happened, but I left out a few details because some of them don’t deserve to hear everything I feel. No one deserves to have to listen to everything of that situation.

None the less, my dear professors, you also have no idea what some of your actions mean to me. When you agree with something I say in class, it raises my confidence so I can try it again. When you let me take a break in class, it means the world to me that you don’t think I’m just overreacting. When you use something I wrote as an assignment as an example in class, I can feel my confidence raise up a few percents because I know I did something right for once. When you ask me how I’m doing, it shows to me that you actually genuinely care, because you didn’t have to stay late and talk to me, you could’ve gone back to your office or could have gone home. You also have no idea what it means when I know that you notice the scars, or the deep circles, or the panic or misery in my eyes, and you continue on without pity for me. That means the most.

So, thank you. Thank you for being there and thank you for not making it a big deal. But sometimes I can’t always come to class and sometimes my assignments might be a day late, and I’m sorry. I’m trying my best I really am. But sometimes my best is just waking up in the morning, and that’s okay. Thank you for being people I can talk to.

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I finally just deleted my assaulter off of Facebook and I feel free.

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I can still remember it like it was yesterday. It was the summer before my Freshman year at college, and we were dating. Not like an official relationship, but we went on dates and such. I trusted him, he was my friend before anything and I had strong feelings for him. It ended before I went to school, and I always blamed myself.

I blamed myself because I didn’t always want to have sex constantly. He did. I blamed myself because I was outspoken. Always clashing with everything he said. I told myself I should have been more docile, more obedient. I should have wanted to have sex because he wanted it as well. I never realized what actually happened until months after this entire ordeal.

I said no. I said no so many times it might have been the most spoken word I said to him in that “relationship”. But he never listened. I was guilted into having sex when I said no. I just laid there and let it happen, even though I had said no numerous times before. That I didn’t want to, that I was tired of it being the only thing we did. I said no because I simply was tired of it. But it still happened. I always thought it was just me being stupid, and that in the end it was a good thing he ignored me saying no, because it’s what was expected. What right did I have to say no?

This happened so many times. 4, maybe even 5 times and still, he and I both ignored my own voice when I said no. It took many times for me to finally stop saying no and just let it happen. Because I thought that’s what I should do. Because I felt I owed him my body.

It’s hard for me to try to type this out but I know it’s something I want and need to do. I have spent over a year trying to cope with what happened. Hell, I still can’t talk about it out loud without choking up and changing the subject. I never thought anything happened until I came to college.

College, your freshman year. Where you meet new people and find yourself. Months in, there were a few dalliances, I won’t lie, but when it came to one person, I was able to realize what happened during the summer.

Because with this specific dalliance in college, when I said no, he stopped. Now, let me repeat that again.

When I said no, he stopped.

He didn’t try to keep going, he didn’t ignore the first no, he didn’t try to guilt me into continuing, and most of all, he didn’t call me a tease. He simply stopped and said “Okay, I understand” and we continued to watch the movie.

I went home that night, sat down on my bed, and cried. I cried until there were no more tears. Because once again, when I said no, he stopped. I was crying because for once, my voice had been heard. I was crying because he listened. I was crying because I finally realized that what happened during the summer was not okay. I was crying, because I finally recognized that I never gave my consent. Most of all, I was crying because it took me months to figure it out and I was so angry with myself.

I pride myself on my strong backbone, on my independence, and on being outspoken; but during the incident, I became a different person. I was angry I didn’t stand up for myself and put a stop to it. I was angry that I just let it happen. I was angry I just let myself take it. I was angry because all of the hard work I had done to build myself up, had vanished when it came down to everything. I was angry because I knew I could have stopped it.

That was over a year ago, when I realized what had happened. Now, I’m angry for a different reason because I blamed myself for the entire incident. I blamed myself for not standing up instead of blaming him for not listening. I blamed myself that I let it happened instead of blaming him for continuing on. I blamed myself because I had thought I let myself down, when I should have been blaming him for breaking my trust. I blamed myself for not stopping it, when he should have stopped as soon as I said no.

I don’t blame myself anymore. I’m not angry at myself anymore because I recognize what happened and I recognize that by saying no, that should have been enough. Most of all, I don’t ignore it anymore and that has lead me to the decision I carried out on November 4th, 2016.

I finally deleted him off of my friends list on Facebook.

Even though I didn’t blame myself anymore, I was still friends with him on Facebook. I was still seeing every update, picture, status, and event he was doing with his life and I thought that was fine. I didn’t see an issue with it. My counselor told me it was probably because he was my friend before anything else and because I still had issues coping with the incident and talking about it. So, over a year later, I have finally gotten rid of him for good. At least on Facebook, and isn’t that a start at least?

I feel that it’s a step forward for me towards continuing to heal and acknowledging what happened. That’s why I wrote this post.

I am writing because I am finally acknowledging that it happened and that it was not okay. I am writing for every person who has ever been victimized and blamed themselves. I am writing because I am strong and I am here. I am successful and I am going places. I am writing because I have loving friends and family and I know that I am safe. I know that I am loved. I know that trust is a sacred thing. But most of all, I know that my consent matters. Without my consent, there is nothing and there will be nothing. Without my consent, no one has the right to do anything to me.

No one has the right to continue if they do not have consent.

 

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My reality is something I’m forced to face

I know it’s been said before, numerous ways by different people, and that it’s not an uncommon thing to say in this generation, but I hate myself. I truly do. I can name at least 10 things I hate about myself in less than 5 minutes but I can’t name at least 3 things I like about myself without taking an uncomfortable amount of time. I’ve made counselors uncomfortable because I could never complete that “What do you like about yourself” activity. Then they would change the topic and move on. I once had a counselor forbid me to use the phrase “I guess” in therapy. She would explain something logically, for example trying to make me care about my well being. My response would simply be “I guess”. She really did hate that phrase. I stopped saying it for the time I was in counseling, but it came back to me like a natural instinct of a bad addiction.

I look at myself and I recognize I am not what society deems as “beautiful”. I recognize that. Why? Because I am slightly above average in height, I’m all leg and arm (basically a gangly giraffe who didn’t grow into their height), and I have rather tiny feet that look disproportionate compared to my legs. I’m also not their definition of thin as I have curves which, while they are making a comeback, are not ideal in this day in age society. There is the main reason why I recognize that I am not deemed beautiful. It is the scars that line both of my arms and the words that you can read if you look hard enough. It is the scars on my hand that people always ask about, and I never have an acceptable lie to tell them. Because you can’t simply say “I have panic attacks and when I have one, I scratch the skin off of my hand with my nails”. No, this isn’t an answer a stranger wants to hear. I also have stretch marks. Yes I am 18 and I have stretch marks, and the reason behind this is simple, I’ve struggled with an eating disorder since I was in 6th grade. I have lost a lot of weight, I’ve been forced to regain that weight, then I’ve lost it again quite suddenly, and then the cycle repeats itself. So no, I’m not “beautiful” by society’s definitions.

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I don’t think it’s society that has influenced my opinion of myself, and if it has, then it’s unconscious. I dislike myself for more than just my appearance, I dislike myself for my personality, my mood, my lack of interactions, my lack of energy etc. I could go on and on, but it gets ridiculous. I don’t know why I feel this hate towards my very own being, I’ve tried to learn to love myself, I really have. I mean, I’ve accepted the scars on my hands and arms as just a part of me, and I’ve accepted the fact that I’m gangly in legs and arms and will most certainly run into inanimate objects during the day. But for some reason, despite me being happy during points in my life, I still cannot love myself. Maybe it’s from the thoughts of suicide or of worthlessness, I honestly can’t tell you.

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All I know is that I’ve accepted my fate. I know I’m never going to fully like myself. I’ve recognized this. But it doesn’t inhibit me from trying to love myself. I don’t like being miserable all the time you know. The only reason why I may seem cold and unfeeling is mostly because I’m hurting on the inside or I simply am feeling numb. I don’t know which feeling is worse to be honest.

So, this is my fate I suppose. I don’t think I’ll not ever change, rather, on the contrary, I think I will change, even if it’s just a little bit. My opinion could change, maybe I will wake up one day and not accept my fate and try a little bit harder. But until then, please don’t try to make me change my mind and hound me with constant praise. Because I don’t believe you. Whenever you say something like that, I will say thank you, but only because I’m being polite. So for now, I’ll keep doing me until someday I find a better way to do it. And with that, my final words on this topic are,

“Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.” Aurelius

 

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“If people want to know who I am, it is all in the work” – Alan Rickman

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Everyone raise your wands for the death of a beloved actor and human being.

Normally, I don’t cry for celebrity deaths. I shed a few tears for my most beloved musicians, poets/authors, or actors, but I never cry. This morning, I found this news out 10 minutes before my psychology class began, and it took all of my strength not to break down bawling. I had my mother and many of my friends text me and ask me if I was okay, and I couldn’t answer. I still can’t. Alan Rickman is, was and will continue to be my favorite actor of all time. He made me fall in love with the roles he played, mainly one of Severus Tobias Snape. When I first read the Harry Potter books, I disliked Snape, but then grew to like him around the 3rd book. It wasn’t until I saw Alan Rickman portray him in Philosopher’s Stone that I fell in love. When you are a child, there is that one person that makes you realize feelings or a certain admiration for a movie or book character, and  Severus Snape was mine. JK Rowlings creation of Severus was genius, but it was Alan Rickman who made me far too attached to the character. I still spend a good 15 minutes prior to Severus’s death in Pt. 2 of Deathly Hallows crying because my beloved character would soon pass. I found and discovered myself in Severus Snape and his life experiences and dedication. Because of Alan Rickman’s portrayal, I found myself wishing Severus Snape could be a real person, even to this day I still wish that. Alan Rickman is more than just Severus Snape, he is also a Shakespearean, Le Vicomte de Valmont in Les Liaisons Dangereuses, Hans Gruber in Die Hard, Sheriff of Nottingham in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, a collaborator with Tim Burton in Sweeney Todd and Alice in Wonderland, King Louis XIV in A Little Chaos. There are so many other roles that he portrayed but there is something that was taken from these roles. Rickman gained the title as a “villain actor” which he disliked. He once said “I don’t see any of [my roles] as one word. It doesn’t matter what I’m playing: it’s not one word, and I think any actor would say the same.” He was also a director and writer of the one-woman play My Name is Rachel Corrie. Alan Rickman never grew tired of his life on the stage as he said, “Life has shifting horizons so you might as well keep swimming.”

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Alan Rickman gave me my love of theatre and the arts at a young age and I admired his work as well as the small details of a person that he let out to the public. Obviously, I do not know the man, let me state that, but I admire and respect him as an actor, director, writer, and person in general. Without him, I never would have had an interest in acting or the musical theatre.

Today, I broke down once I came to my dorm room and just started absolutely bawling. In fact, I’m still crying as I type this right now. It may seem ridiculous to some people, but when someone who has helped you realize a passion has passed away, it’s a similar feeling to being stabbed honestly.

"Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows: Part 2" New York Premiere - Arrivals

NEW YORK, NY – JULY 11: (L-R) Alan Rickman, Tom Felton, Emma Watson, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Matthew Lewis attend the New York premiere of “Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows: Part 2” at Avery Fisher Hall, Lincoln Center on July 11, 2011 in New York City. (Photo by Stephen Lovekin/Getty Images)

Obviously, the cast of Harry Potter is sharing their grief and loss in many ways. JK Rowling tweeted out this morning “There are no words to express how shocked and devastated I am to hear of Alan Rickman’s death. He was a magnificent actor & a wonderful man. — My thoughts are with Rima and the rest of Alan’s family. We have all lost a great talent. They have lost part of their hearts.”

Daniel Radcliffe posted

Alan Rickman is undoubtedly one of the greatest actors I will ever work with. He is also, one of the loyalest and most supportive people I’ve ever met in the film industry. He was so encouraging of me both on set and in the years post-Potter. I’m pretty sure he came and saw everything I ever did on stage both in London and New York. He didn’t have to do that. I know other people who’ve been friends with him for much much longer than I have and they all say “if you call Alan, it doesn’t matter where in the world he is or how busy he is with what he’s doing, he’ll get back to you within a day”.

People create perceptions of actors based on the parts they played so it might surprise some people to learn that contrary to some of the sterner(or downright scary) characters he played, Alan was extremely kind, generous, self-deprecating and funny. And certain things obviously became even funnier when delivered in his unmistakable double-bass.

As an actor he was one of the first of the adults on Potter to treat me like a peer rather than a child. Working with him at such a formative age was incredibly important and I will carry the lessons he taught me for the rest of my life and career. Film sets and theatre stages are all far poorer for the loss of this great actor and man.

Emma Watson posted “I’m very sad to hear about Alan today. I feel so lucky to have worked and spent time with such a special man and actor. I’ll really miss our conversations. RIP Alan. We love you”
James Phelps said “Shocked & sad to hear Alan Rickman has passed away. One of the nicest actors I’ve ever met.Thoughts and prayers with his family at this time”
Oliver Phelps said “Terribly sad news about the passing of Alan Rickman. A funny and engaging person who put a shy young actor at ease when I was on HP.”
Bonny Wright posted “Alan. The energy shifted every time you walked onto set. You were an inspiration to us all. RIP”
Natalie Tena tweeted “I can’t believe Alan Rickman’s dead. What?! Such an incredible actor, such a loss. R.I.P”
Warwick Davis said “So terribly sad to hear of the passing of Alan Rickman. Honoured to have shared the screen with him. He’ll be sorely missed.”
Chris Rankin said “Just had awful news of Alan Rickmans death. Utterly devastated. Nothing more to say at this time.”
Stan Yanevski tweeted, “RIP Alan Rickman (Severus Snape – Harry Potter series). It was an honor knowing and working with him. Sad,sad news. :(“
Obviously, my thoughts are with the Rickman family as I can understand the loss of a loved one from cancer. I know this sad feeling all to well as it has taken away many of my family members and a few friends.
Alan Rickman will always be at the top of my admiration list along with Amy Winehouse, Kurt Cobain and Paul Taffanel. In Rickman’s letter at the end of his Harry Potter career, he said
Three children have become adults since a phone call with Jo Rowling, containing one small clue, persuaded me that there was more to Snape than an unchanging costume, and that even though only three of the books were out at that time, she held the entire massive but delicate narrative in the surest of hands. It is an ancient need to be told stories. But the story needs a great storyteller. Thanks for all of it, Jo.
So I thank you, Alan Rickman, for your portrayal of your character’s on stage, but mostly for Severus Snape. Showing me that loyalty and determination are key in the factors of love. Showing me that despite people’s own dislike, you should not go your entire life trying to defend yourself. As long as you know you, and the people who you care about know you, then that’s what truly matters. Thank you for the talent that you have given to the world along with the laughs and dedication to the poor and starving. Your wise words will continue to influence me throughout my life and I just cannot thank you enough for the impact you have had on parts of my life. So I raise my wand to you, Alan Rickman, may you rest in peace and continue on in the afterlife as the wonderful person you have shown to the world. Your death is a tragedy and I will remember this day for quite a while, the day when I lost a role model. As Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore said, “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.” May you journey on your next adventure and remain loved, admired, and respected.
As one fan, I can say this truly, I will never forget how you have impacted my life. Even years from now, after all this time, my answer will be

Always

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