when i was five
i used to sit on the floor in my kitchen
and wonder what dying was like
i would pick up a fruit knife
put the blade to my skin
if only to feel the cool metal
and before a single drop of blood was drawn from my delicate veins
i would shove the knife back into the drawer
and run off somewhere else as if it never happened
wondering what would’ve happened
if the knife had slipped

i didn’t want to bleed
i didn’t want to die
i just wanted to know what would happen
would someone miss me?
would someone cry?

when i was ten
i used to sit in my bathtub
and wonder what drowning was like
i wouldnt let the water drain after a shower
and i would lie there
until goosebumps littered my skin
the water running cold
droplets from my wet hair trickling down my back
and before i could fully submerge myself in remnants of shampoo suds
i would pull the plug on the drain and wrap myself in a towel
slip into my room as if it never happened
wondering what would’ve happened
if i had fallen asleep there

i didn’t want to drown
i didn’t want to die
i just wanted to know what would happen
would someone miss me?
would someone cry?

now i’m fifteen
and i sit on the floor in my room
drowning in a pool of tears
and i wonder if i could just disappear
erase the signs of my existence quietly
so no one remembered me

run off to a world where i’m not tired
not physically
or emotionally
or mentally
or academically
and although i try to fight off the dehabilitating fatigue
as i deplete the last ounces of my energy
i wonder what would happen
if i succumbed to the exhaustion

i think i want to disappear
i think i might want to die
but i want to know what would happen
would you miss me?
would i cry?

i go to school so i may have more opportunities in the future
but what they dont understand is that school is what is draining me

im draining myself away
for the promise of a future i may not live to see

working toward my future is actively killing me
the more i work the further my future seems

as my assignments pile up and weigh me down
i try to give everything i have
but as i give and give and give and give
and remain so desperately behind
i can’t help but wonder what the point of it all is

after all
how many times
can the desperate shots of my flare gun
be misinterpreted as fireworks
before i stop shooting?

how many times
can the hints i carefully lace into my casual remarks
not raise the questions i was hoping for
before i stop including them?

i go to school for my future
i’m sure it will be bright and brilliant and blinding

that is if school doesn’t take my future away first

i gave you my favorite crewneck two months ago
i still think about it all the time

you spilled something on your shirt
i offered my crewneck and said
“oh just give it back to me whenever”

it’s been two months.

i miss my crewneck, i really do
i’m pretty sure they don’t sell it anymore
but i just think about it and never ask for it back
maybe it’s because everytime you see it hanging in your closet
you’ll think of me
maybe it’s because it means i still have a reason to talk to you
even if i don’t use it

your house is only 0.2 miles away from mine
i could stop by one day and grab it
i could open the door
and say hi to your mom
and pet your dog
and give your sister a piggyback ride
maybe grab a glass of juice from your fridge
but i don’t know if i’m allowed to do that anymore

and i know your house is 0.2 miles away
because i used to track you on findmy
make sure you were home
so that if i needed someone
you would be there, just 0.2 miles away
i track other people on findmy now

isn’t it funny how things change
i got a concussion last month
things changed pretty quickly after that
i lost the ability to do a bunch of things
balance properly
form and articulate coherent thoughts
regulate my emotions

maybe i also lost the ability to communicate with you
i used to tell you everything
what new drink i was trying
what ungodly hour i went to bed
what popped into my head and had no one else to tell
now i tell you nothing

i went to a therapist last monday
you didn’t know that
i was told i have ’concussion induced depression’
you didn’t know that
i went to a neurology clinic on thursday
you didn’t know that
it’ll take at least two more months for my concussion to heal
you didn’t know that

but maybe, just maybe
when i’m healed in two months
we’ll learn how to communicate again
we’ll text and talk and call
i’ll come by your house to drink some juice

and i’ll get my favorite crewneck back

but probably
i’ll ask you for it at some point
you’ll say “oh sure”
and bring it to school the next day
and i’ll still get my favorite crewneck back
four months after i gave it to you

but i won’t get you back
and that might just be the last time i ever talk to you