okay seriously if you’re in a relationship or even a friendship and you find yourself spending more time crying out of sadness or arguing with them, leave them. i don’t care if they’re a modern day aphrodite/adonis or a gift bestowed upon you by the gods. toxic people are dangerous and i highly advise cutting them out of your life and finding someone who makes you laugh until you snort your drink out your nose instead.
you said you’d listen to my story
after you were done on the phone but
when i came back you asked what was
“so goddamn important”
i couldn’t stop nagging you about it
and since it was something stupid i was just hoping
would make you laugh so
i told you to forget about it
you said you’d read my writing and
not laugh at it but in reality
i’ve never stopped being a joke in this family
because in middle school i wrote dark short stories
where the main character died and yeah in retrospect
maybe that’s funny but
there’s also a reason why since then i don’t
show you anything because at thirteen hearing you
refuse to take my work seriously
didn’t really make me feel like laughing
you said that school was important but
at the same time would get so pissed at me
if i stayed up doing homework
all i would hear is “why didn’t you start this
earlier” and when i tried to explain i had other things to do
i was told “i don’t want to hear it just get it done”
and when i ever mentioned that i was stressed to the point
of breaking into glass pieces
you always rolled your eyes and said “you don’t even
know what stress is” even though when i asked for help on projects
you’d barely even look at it before
deciding it was too difficult
you’ve never said
that you’re proud of me
only told me the things i should be fixing like
how i’m kind of getting a tummy and my hair is always
messy and how i’ll never get married if i don’t start
being more mature and how i need to work on being
the perfect student or i’ll never amount to anything and
i need to patch up my personality
i don’t know but
when you asked me why i’ve been
“so distant lately it’s kind of bitchy”
i got as far as
before you said
“don’t start with me.”
i don’t know what you want. i wish i could just
THINGS I LIKE
- when people use my name in conversation
- when people say “this reminded me of you!”
- when people remember little things i say/do
- when people genuinely thank me for things i’ve done for them
- when i think of the same thing at the same time as someone else and you give each other the look
Painless ways to kill yourself.
i. There is no painless way to kill yourself, someone, somewhere, will feel the pain.
ii. The internet says, “sleeping pills, you will fall asleep and never wake up! You won’t feel a thing!” When that is a lie, your stomach will turn to fire and your throat will fill with the taste of your own stomach acid. You will drown in your own spit. That isn’t even the worst party, it’s when your mother comes home from work. She will walk through the door, and call out your name. She will call and call and there will be no response, maybe you’re in the shower? Maybe you’re asleep? She will walk up the stairs, knock on your door to receive no answer. When she walks in she will see the lifeless body of her baby girl, lying on the floor. Her heart will stop but she will run to you with shaky knees, touching your face that is now still and cold. Her body will be on fire, and her throat will begin to tighten, the sharp pains in her chest will feel like knives in the heart. That image will kill her more than her own death, it will haunt her living years each night. She will no longer be alive, but just as dead as you are now.
iii. Years ago, your father showed you the gun safe he kept in the house in case of emergencies, you knew the pass code, you knew how to shoot and loud, at least you had an idea. They say a bullet to the brain will do the job.. So one night, when your father is fast asleep, you will be down the hallway staring down the mouth of a gun.
One, two, three..
Your father’s heart will jump and his body will follow, the first thing he thinks of is you. He will scream your name and run down the hallway and bang on your door. It’s locked. His knees begin to feel weak as he bruises his body trying to knock down the door, the first sight he see’s in blood splattered on the wall. At that moment his breath began to stop, and his eyes wandered to yours. Still open, but no more life inside your shell. He will drop to his hands and knees and scream why, why, why. There will never be a day he won’t hate himself, for keeping a gun in the house, for not making you happy, for not knowing. He will live a life without a son, live a life with an empty space. Live a life of hurt, and hatred for himself.
iv. You may think that when you’re dead and gone you will not be hurting anyone. You may think when you slide a blade across your wrist, you’re only hurting yourself. Yet I have learned that is not true, it’s not. The person who will find your body, the one who see’s the cuts, their chest will feel tight and they will feel like it was their fault for letting it get this far. The only mark you will be leaving on them is pain, hurt, and the question why? So please note this, there is pain in every suicide attempt, every death, every cut. You are not only hurting your life, but others too. Because you are cared for.