my voice is girly when I talk to strangers but when I’m with friends I turn into morgan freeman
i keep hearing that i need to
be careful and that one day i will
regret the scars and the thoughts
and the actions but honestly
i’ve done this enough i’m
immune to the consequences
to the are you okay speeches
and school assemblies and hotlines
but truth be told i love being reckless
reckless enough to where it takes
a toll on my body and my mind
where it makes me sick and manic
i’m absolutely mental and i’m
i love the torture and the pain
and the secrecy
it takes my mind off you
Dear Mom and Dad,
Ive told you time and time again
that I could not remain on this earth,
That the dust in my ribcage needs to return to the ground it belongs to.
I’ve explained how I tried to live but I have failed,
Admitting to failure more than confronting success.
I’ve informed you that in time you will no longer have a daughter,
and I convinced you that I’m sorry that I can’t stay,
but the world keeps pushing me away.
I told you about my lack of energy,
It seems as if I am always tired.
Getting out of bed is a daily struggle.
I told you that I’ve never known true happiness,
And that I never will.
I told you that I will always be your baby girl
but sometimes people lose what they hold closest to their hearts.
But Mom, Dad,
With my pen to this paper,
I want you to know
I am not writing this as a suicide letter,
But instead to tell you how I was wrong.
I was so wrong.
I wasn’t going to die,
I am not weak,
I just did not know these scarred arms to be my own pillars of strength.
So tonight there will be no empty pill bottles,
Or slit wrists,
There will be no more hospital bracelets
Or suicidal ideation,
because tonight I’m replacing that blade with this pen,
To tell you that you were right,
I am alive.
I don’t ever want to forget that again
not killing myself is a personal achievement but you cant really brag about that at dinner parties