It was 11:43 pm.
The street was quiet,
And the streetlights were the only thing allowing us to see each other.

His uniform looked damaged,
His eyes looked droopy,
And his hair looked gray.

The officer who came to my house in the middle of the night to check on me.
He got on his knees,
Got down to my level,
And placed a hand on my shoulder.

What's crazy is he encouraged me to do something illegal.
"Sir. All my life I have wanted to graffiti a building."
And he chuckled...
A warm and melodic sound in the quiet of the neighborhood...

"Then you can't die until you do it, huh?"

And I agreed.
Because he was called to check on me...
Because I was at a dark place in my life.
And he said quietly...

"There have been a lot of suicides in this county... and I have seen every one of them."

And I knew what he meant.
So I nodded.
And he stood up, told me and my mother goodnight, and went on his way.

And that officer will never know the impact he had on my life.

But I'll thank him anyways.

It's not a matter of when I will die,
It's not a matter of how I will die,
It's not even a matter of why I'll die.
It's a matter of...
"Will anyone care?"
"Will I have left a dent on the Earth?"
"Will I have mattered?"
"Will I have changed someone's life?"
And if I can't answer those questions...
Then maybe...

I don't wanna die yet.

I'm a good person
I'm kind to everyone
Even though I've been hurt
So many times

I'm a good person
I'm trying my best
Even if my best
Will never be good enough

I'm a good person
I help where I can
At the cost of my own feelings
I'll help someone else

I'm a good person
I'm losing good weight
Eating so little
To make my body appealing to your eyes

I'm a good person
I'm doing so much
Just waking up in the morning
I'm trying to help

Am I good person?
I realize I try to help
But will I ever make
Someone's life better?

A single red rose
Planted above recently laid out dirt
Dirt that had been hammered down
With an old shovel
Dirt that made an audience
With tear stained smiles
And soft apologies
They whispered a final goodbye
And the rose lost a petal.

Dear father,

I understand you believe what you were raised to believe.
You grew up in a time that a man who loved another man would never be acceptable.
You grew up in a time that what you were born with is what you would keep.
And I grew up in a time that said:
"Be yourself."
And that's who I'm trying to be.
Your insults are daggers to my already broken heart, and your glare an icy spear...
But one day, I can only home that you welcome me with open arms, the same arms you have comforted me with many times before, and say:
"Welcome home, son."

When you can't fly,
You learn to jump
As high as you can

And with mercy sewn into your smile
A simple smile--even yours--could not spare me
The unending guilt I felt for leaving