you can’t feel regret with a bullet through your head
you can’t wake up to the smell of stale *****
or see FAILURE printed on your forehead in the mirror
or hear your own thoughts that seem to be in such greater quantities than everyone else’s

it’s the best solution for a hangover
the cure for the worst headaches
an end to all thoughts that seem to be in direct contact with whatever makes your stomach twist
            your chest tighten
            your palms sweat
            your eyes well up

the list of pros and cons is dramatically lopsided
force yourself not to think of the look in her eyes when she sees you every other weekend
block out the sound of their laughter when it’s 3am and no one can sleep
put blinders on: see tomorrow
                          see the day after
                          see disappointment and regret and broken bottles
                          because sometimes you stumble

only then will you be able to give yourself the right answer
when you ask, “would that be so hard to walk away from?”

maybe compassion can only be found in the pain of opening your eyes each morning
maybe it is the ache of getting out of bed
lay back down,
the world doesn’t want you today

maybe compassion can only be found in losing who you are each night
maybe it is looking into the mirror with bloodshot eyes
and thinking that you are your father’s daughter
for the first time, this shames you

maybe compassion can only be found in self-inflicted misery
maybe it is a certain kind of hurt
that seems to always manifest itself on soft skin and darkened eyes
stop and ask yourself if this is what you want

maybe the word ‘selfish’ means something different now
and settling for leading a life of comfortable boredom sounds far less appealing
find parallels between the man you’ve struck down
and who you’ve become in the past decade

maybe it took so much more than you ever thought it would
to see that years of chasing after something you don’t want can be very exhausting
out of breath with blistered heels
and everything you’ve never wanted just out of reach,
ideas of right versus wrong become skewed and irrelevant

maybe sometimes people get tired of running
but maybe sometimes they don’t know how to stop
everyone is tired
i’m sorry i didn’t hold on to you tight enough

time is not static and i am no longer six years old
but sometimes i still feel like that
i want you to know that life means something different to me
than it ever did to you

i want you to know that i wish i could control everything
and make everyone feel okay
i want you to know that when people say that time heals all wounds,
they’re not telling the truth
ten years is a long time to wait for something like that to happen

i still entertain myself with the “what if” game
and if you have ever done that
then you know just as well as i do that it doesn’t get you anywhere
i want you to know some of the things that go on in my head
because for some reason i think you are the only person who could understand

what if you didn’t own a gun
what if i was a better daughter
what if the string of events that led up to you leaving this earth forever
didn’t happen

what if you saw me now and you were disappointed
in who i am, what i have done, and where i have ended up
what if it wasn’t a mistake or a regret
what if this is what you actually wanted

i’m sorry that sometimes life seemed like a jumbled mess
of heartache and regret and things that don’t make sense
i’m sorry that you spent so long chasing after something
that would have never made you feel okay
i’m sorry that you felt as if you had to drown your brilliance with substance
instead of just seeing it for what it was

i will not label your absence
or claim to know where you have moved on to
i can only hope that there is something more
than everything you were so desperate to escape
i hope that wherever you are, there is no one to tell you to turn your music down
and there’s never a day where you feel like something’s missing
i hope you’re not running anymore
and i hope that you never feel like you have to again

we both watched them run until their bodies became to frail to function
they wore themselves out and broke themselves down into nothing
we behaved as if bystanders to some gruesome accident in the making
powerless in our capability to rescue,
but burdened with the weight of survivor’s guilt all the same

we both watched them run faster than we could keep up with
their arms pumped by their sides, their elbows shoving us away
we called out to them, we screamed:
"aren’t you getting tired yet?"
but our words were lost in the dust they created

we both watched them run farther away from us,
farther away from the unknown they were searching for so desperately
we both watched them run until there was nothing left to see

there are so many things that have gone to waste.

if there is no Man to hear the tree in the forest as it falls,
as it crashes to the soft and earthy floor
dragging down small saplings, trees-to-be
scattering small colonies of ants
smashing weak collections of petals and leaves into the dirt
uprooting the birds nestled in its branches
all in one moment,
does it make a sound?

or is it a silent collapse of life?

i wonder if the gun made a sound as it went off
i wonder if you were silent as you fell

they said, “close your eyes
and imagine darkness. fathom unfathomable pain,”
so i did.

and long after my eyes were open, i remained
unable to see my hand held in front of my face

i continued to allow that darkness to envelop me,
clinging to every part of me

it’s stench seeping into my clothes, my hair
have you ever been unsure of whether your eyes were open or closed?

i felt you there, my hands numb from gripping and dragging for so long
taking with me two-hundred pounds of resistance

(“please, let go,” you whispered)

i did not hear you, but do you remember the day when my arms gave out?
when i am not hunched over, i stand much taller

mediocrity isn’t
something to be strived for
and being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure

it’s heavier than any weight
that could be strapped to your back,
larger than any expectations
you delude yourself into thinking you must meet
emptiness fills
more than you would think

your feeble body on the ground
stirs no pity in me
i hope the steel-toed boots
striking you from every direction
leave bruises that last
i hope the stench of your rotting flesh
gags you and brings up the lack
of what you hold inside
i hope old scabs are ripped open again
and your hands lay weak by your side
unable to stop the flow of blood

let me hear you say that you are nothing,
           that you have nothing valuable to offer
let me hear you say that you are a waste of space,
            an unwanted burden
let me hear you cry and plead for an end,
            although you don’t deserve that escape

i want to hear you say that you’re a murderer

i want you to go back:
             look into his eyes
             watch them dilate with fear
             and then see the light leave them

             feel his blood on your hands
             leaving a permanent mark
             that doesn’t wash off under water

             feel his body turn cold
             as the life inside him stops
             with his heartbeat

your sniveling apologies do nothing
but turn my stomach over
don’t touch me,
i don’t care if the blood is gone

being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure
i hope you never get away
from that weight