a first step

the girl on youtube tells me, and many other viewers, don’t kill yourself, because her sister did, and she suffers for her sister’s actions years later
she talks of the stinging and hurt after
the questions and anger
she means it
i listen and for a few hours i am quietened

my best friend on imessage tells me, and spends half an hour explaining why in great detail,
i should not kill myself
they mean it
they love me and they would be so angry at me if i tried and failed
they would be so angry at me if i tried

my boyfriend on skype sits there with his head resting on his hand, he too told me not to kill myself, and now he is at a loss for words
he was tired before we started talking
i cannot help but wonder if his life would be easier
without me in it
he tells me otherwise when i voice this thought to him. he means it.

my mom left my apartment earlier after watching the aforementioned youtube video with me, because she has cats and a home to attend to
when i ask if i should kill myself, she always says no, no matter how tired of talking to me she is
i wonder what kind of monster would ask their mother that
and justify the act of killing myself within my imagination
by my own selfish actions. but no matter how tired her voice is when she tells me she does not want me to die, she means it

my throat hurts from crying and i am too scared to say it to myself
why is it so easy to vocalize self-hatred and deprecation
to wish the worst upon myself
to mean it
and so hard to even speak that i do not want to die, i do not want to lie, but i want maybe one day to be happy

i aim for hope and fall short every time, kissing the ground with my cheekbones, grazed
freshly bleeding and in need of sanitization
everyone tells me that i will one day not regret staying alive
i write this poem in a vague attempt to do something more productive than hurting myself
i wish i could want the things others want for me for myself. i say that aloud. it is a first step


i’m not one for burning images
tearing up photographs and
tossing them in the garbage

i like to preserve and document
i live to scan every photo, write every word
document every single damn moment

maybe it’s because my sun is in cancer
maybe it’s because i’m a millenial
or perhaps i am just a nostalgic girl

we aren’t friends any more
you and i stopped sharing laughs and snacks
a while ago we halted but i’m here

i don’t want you back in my life, no
but if you think for a second that the video
of dinosaur chicken nuggets being arranged by you

would get deleted? no
i still have the printed photos from my 25th birthday
when you bought me chinese food and smiled

i have happy memories too
of things that are still untainted by the mess
of ending a friendship and criticism never heard

the time we went to a diner,
there were so many times he and i walked into diners
i always order more food than i can eat.

i’m still here to get better
i still fight to preserve everything but myself
i still care about you though i do not want to see you

unsure how to be

i’m sorry that all i know how to say sometimes
is “i don’t know” or that
everything i touch walks away a little more hurt

i wish i was something healthy and complete
by myself a perfect being
never in need of aid; never feeling unjustly betrayed

i don’t know how to communicate effectively any more
i am unsure how to be
i am compressed into a high pressure container and i will implode

i flaunt my flaws these days, allow them to run wild
immolate; immolation
not just a username but a thought about nail polish remover and feeling better

my therapist asked me about my mother today and i grew quiet
withdrew into myself
so as not to anger and to be the best myself i can be, still flawed

i consume foods that i know will make me sick
i’ve done much worse
does that change the path of self destruction? no

i stay alive

i took two overdoses in 2016
combined there were over 300 pills in my body within those two months,
just the times i shouldn’t have had them in my body,
not counting the times i took medicines as prescribed

i don’t remember too well what happened
but i remember how i felt
lost, scared, panicking
unsure of any other options. nothing seems as solid as a suicide attempt sometimes

it’s hard to describe anything i go through sometimes
my brain becomes a mush-up
a mess of tangled neuroses (and other problems)
really i would like to feel happiness but the more realistic option is the absence of pain

my pain and suffering are not small things
they are big monsters that bite chunks of my flesh away and leave bone exposed
i am in bed for days crying over their existence
i am standing up and taking prescriptions and fighting too

the problem with suicide that never matters when your head
is full to the brim with pain
and won’t subside or ease at all
is the hurt you are too swollen with fresh tears to notice isn’t all your own

i cannot deny that multiple people tell me they love me
they care about me
sometimes it even feels real, if temporary
but i know when i push back my emotions and force logical thinking to overtake them:

this is a thing i can do
a thing that i have done
and it will solve almost every ache and problem i have
but comes back threefold for those who were brave enough to truly love me

i don’t want to do that to anyone
least of all the few who weren’t scared
when i broke open my ribs and skull and showed them what lies within
also, my cat, so for now:

i stay alive