I jumped off the platform
and onto the train tracks today
simply because — well —
there was nothing else to do.
I did my laundry at two in the afternoon,
had breakfast an hour after that,
and filled in my daily quota
of wondering where my life is heading.
And I completed all those tasks
before five!

Can you believe it?

I jumped off the platform
and onto the train tracks today
simply because I felt like it.
Because death
has been knocking on my door
since 2014, and I thought
to finally give it a chance.
Because the thought of dying
is the only thing that keeps me alive.
Because at this point,
death is the only thing I haven’t tried.

So, I jumped.

I jumped — and the train crashed into me,
like death was finally
giving me the embrace I have denied for so long.
It said, “This is the end, and you
have reached it.” And I, all red and blood
on the floor, smiled because
death is exactly how I
have been imagining it.

The people around me have places to be,
lives to live, people to love, pets to care for,
and I — I am guts on the ground
they are frowning at because I
delayed their entire lives.
They would think back
thirty years from now,
and remember the girl
who spilled her guts on the train tracks.

But I will be dead, and my last memory
would always be the faces of these strangers.

Was my death an inconvenience?
Did my death ruin your life?
Your day? Your evening?
Did seeing me die
make you realize
how precious your life is?
Did seeing all the ugly parts of me
make you think of how beautiful you are?

Did my death serve as a lesson?
Did my death teach you
how to be alive?

Lucky.

My body was a graveyard
long before it was dead, and my mind
was even worse than that.
And you think your life is ruined?
You think your life will never be the same?

Funny.
Mental illness
took that chance away from me.

At least I did the laundry,
had breakfast,
and filled in my quota
before I jumped.